


Someday My Prince Will Come

by Hazel_Athena



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Fake Dating, M/M, Modern AU, Romantic Comedy, accidentally married, royal au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-06-20 01:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 63,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15522594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazel_Athena/pseuds/Hazel_Athena
Summary: Josh has done his fair share of stupid shit in his life, but taking a much needed trip to Vegas with the intent of losing himself at a bar/card table, and instead winding up married to a perfect stranger is right at the top of the list.“You reckon there’s any way we can get it annulled?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo. A while back I received a prompt for a snippet involving a Royal AU and an Accidentally Married AU. I wrote a quick 700 word snippet and said let that be then end of it. Then there were requests for more, and I had ideas, and the next thing you know - this happened.
> 
> If you’re looking for sense, accuracy, or even a decent understanding of the American legal system, you will not find it here. We are in pure rom-com territory, my friends, and we’re gonna stay there.
> 
> Posting schedule will be irregular due to work, but I’ve never not finished a WIP before, and I don’t intend to start now. Hope y’all enjoy :)

 

“What d’ya mean, we got _married_?” Hungover to the point that he thinks his brain might be about to burst and then leak out his ears, Josh glares at the (somehow still) stunningly attractive man he’d woken up next to, and snatches the piece of paper out of his hands when he sheepishly offers it up.

It’s a marriage license alright, one as official looking as any Josh’s ever seen. Not that he’s had a lot of experience with these particular documents, mind you, but that’s his name and his signature, sure enough. Right next to the godawful mouthful that apparently is his now dearly beloved’s full moniker.

“I don’t even know how to pronounce half of these,” he grumbles, choosing to focus on that rather than the swell of panic rising up from the pit of his stomach. He’s done his fair share of stupid shit in his life, but taking a much needed trip to Vegas with the intent of losing himself at a bar/card table, and instead winding up married to a perfect stranger is right at the top of the list.

“You reckon there’s any way we can get it annulled?” He asks, and the guy, Alejandro (no wait, Ale - he’d definitely told Josh to call him Ale at one point), makes a face at him.

“I woke up as naked and ... worn out as you, guero,” he says flatly. “I think it’s safe to say an annulment is very much not on the table.”

“Right,” Josh mumbles, feeling his face heat as he has an abrupt flash of clarity to a moment last night, one involving cool lips tracing a pattern down his chest right before things got _really_ interesting. “That happened.”

“Yes, it did,” his companion agrees, and Josh briefly considers punching his brand new husband right in his perfect teeth at the smug tone in his voice. Honestly, it’s probably only the pounding headache that stops him. “Repeatedly, if I recall correctly.”

“Wonderful,” Josh grunts, once again glaring at the paper in his hand. It’s an awful innocuous looking thing, considering all the trouble it represents. “So, I guess it’s a divorce then. You got any idea how to go about doing that?”

“Er,” his companion says, looking flustered for the first time all morning. He brings one hand up to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck, inadvertently calling attention to the truly stunning array of bite marks adorning one side of his throat. “That might actually be somewhat complicated.”

And oh but Josh does not like the sound of that. Not even a little. “Complicated,” he repeats, harshly enough that the other man winces at his tone. “Define complicated.”

Ale opens his mouth and closes it a few times, clearly looking for the right way to explain himself. Finally, he says. “How closely have you been following the local news of late?”

Josh snorts. “I’ve barely turned it on since I’ve been here. The whole city’s losing its collective mind over that visiting royal whatchamacallit. The one from Europe, or whatever. Apparently, he’s quite the looker.” 

For some reason that earns him a pleased grin - the same pleased grin that had caused all this trouble in the first place when Josh had offered to buy its owner a drink. “Really?”

“Damned if I know,” Josh replies. “I wouldn’t be able to pick the guy out of a crowd.”

“Yes,” Ale says slowly, and now Josh has absolutely no idea what his face his doing. His expression is nigh on unreadable. “You know, I had sort of figured that out.”

Gearing up to demand just what exactly that means, not to mention why it’s relevant, Josh is thrown off his game when the door to their hotel suite is unceremoniously shoved open, and a large black man who’s entire bearing screams ‘security’ stomps into the room.

The guy glances back and forth between them, before slamming the door shut behind him and glaring at Ale. 

Who offers him the faintest grin Josh has ever seen in his life. “Sam,” he says weakly. “Good morning.”

“No, it fucking well isn’t.” ‘Sam’ replies. He casts an irate gaze over Josh, raking him from top to bottom before his eyes finally fall on the marriage certificate, at which point he groans. “Alejandro, tell me you didn’t.”

Which is how Josh learns he’s not only gotten married, but somehow landed himself an honest to god prince in the process.

*****

“It’s possible I may have fucked up.”

Josh hears an exasperated sigh on the other end of the phone, and he doesn’t have to be able to see Red to know he’s making a face like he’s got the opening stages of a headache. He waits a few beats to say anything, and then ... “How much bail money do you need? I have to weigh how much I’m willing to fork over to not be stuck watching your demon animal for longer than I agreed to.”

“Fuck you, Jack is a _delight_ ,” Josh snaps, instantly on the defensive where his dog’s honour is concerned. It’s not his fault no one else can tell that his beloved rescue mutt just needs some getting used to.

“He’s Satan in a fur suit,” Red replies. “He’s already chewed not one but two legs off my coffee table, which you are replacing by the way. Just like you’re going to pay me back every cent I hand over to get you out of lock up.”

“Fuck _you_ ,” Josh says again. “Do you honestly think I’d use you as my one call from jail? I’m being serious, Red. I’ve got a real problem on my hands, and not the kind I usually get you to help me with. An _actual_ problem.”

Something in his tone must click with Red because Josh can tell between one instant and the next when his friend stops messing with him. “What is it?” He asks, not quite managing to keep the worried inflection out of his voice. “What’s wrong?”

Josh pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand, and sighs. “So, it’s like this,” he starts, “I was at the hotel bar when this incredibly hot guy sat down next to me, and - hey! Give that back, asshole!”

His hands grasping futilely, Josh gets shoved unceremoniously backwards by Ale’s head security goon, who’s just swooped in out of nowhere to steal his phone. He can hear Red’s voice demanding to know what’s happening, only to be cut off when the guy shuts the phone down, and stuffs it in his pocket. “Sorry, but I can’t let you do that.”

“Excuse me?” Josh barks, his already terrible mood worsening as he goes from distressed to apoplectic fury in the span of a moment. Not caring that the guy could probably snap him in a half like a twig, Josh gets right in his face.

“Listen here,” he snarls. “I don’t give a flying fuck who you are, or who you work for. If you think I’m going to sit around and let you walk all over me, then you’ve got another thing coming. Give me my fucking phone back!”

Security type cocks his head to the side, obviously unimpressed with Josh’s little tirade. He purses his lips for a moment, and then smirks meanly. “No.”

Pushed to the brink thanks to everything that’s happened, and not caring what it’s likely to cost him, Josh draws his fist back with full intention of taking a swing, when there’s a soft click to one side, and the real source of all this trouble enters the room.

Ale’s gotten changed in the time that Josh has been trying to commiserate with his oldest friend. Last night’s clothes, which had been hastily thrown on after they’d woken up, are gone, replaced by a pair of faded jeans and a long-sleeved sweater that Josh can’t help but wonder if it’s as soft as it appears. He doesn’t look like a prince, even if he is unfairly handsome. Mainly, he looks confused.

“What’s going on here?” He asks, his softly accented voice washing over the room like some kind of goddamned soothing balm. “What are you two shouting about?”

“I wasn’t shouting,” the security jackass says primly. “That was all him. I was doing my job.”

“He stole my fucking phone,” Josh snaps, gearing right back up for a fight. Never mind that this guy could likely kick his ass at the best of times, which these most decidedly aren’t, he’s fast approaching his breaking point, and punching someone sounds like a damn fine idea no matter the consequences. “Like I’m some kind of fucking criminal.”

“Well, we’ve yet to rule that out,” security asshole says, and it turns out Josh was right about his inability to sufficiently clock the guy. He dodges the first punch easily, before squaring up to get ready to throw a few of his own.

“Enough!” Ale barks, effectively making it so that doesn’t happen. “No more fighting. We’re all going to approach this situation like rational adults, and that’s the end of it. Sam. Give him his phone back.”

“You can’t be serious,” security bastard snaps. “Alejandro!”

“I said give it back, Sam.” There’s no arguing with Ale’s tone, and for the first time since they’d met, he sounds like how Josh would expect a prince to. “Now.”

A low growl rings out, for once not coming from Josh, and the next thing he knows his phone is being flung at him with more force than necessary. Fumbling to catch it, Josh glances at the screen and notes that not only has Red tried to call back twice, but Emma’s number is there too.

“Fucking awesome,” he grits out because the problem’s just increased tenfold. “I hope you realize you’ve just made things a thousand times worse.”

“Ah!” Ale raises a finger to cut off his head goon before he can respond with what’s no doubt going to be an incredibly rude invective against Josh’s person. “Sam, could you please leave us alone for a minute? I don’t think your presence is helping.”

Josh’s grumbled “No, really?” is drowned out by the ensuing protest, but Ale must be made of sterner stuff than he looks like because he holds his ground until Sam gives a gruff nod, and stomps out of the room as impressively as he’d first stomped in.

“I’m sorry about that,” Ale says, turning to Josh, and sounding like he genuinely means the apology. “If it helps, I can pretty much guarantee that he’s far more upset with me than he is with you.”

“It doesn’t help,” Josh grunts. Typing out a quick message to both Red and Emma that he’ll call them as soon as he can, but in the meantime not to panic, he sends it off, and then looks up to find Ale staring at him. “What?”

“Nothing. I just,” Ale shrugs. “I guess this whole thing is starting to sink in. Mierda.” Looking slightly sick, he crosses to one of the plush armchairs scattered about the living room of his hotel suite, and sags into it. “What a disaster.”

“I don’t mean you, personally,” he adds immediately, flapping a hand at Josh for some unknown reason. “I’ve no doubt you’re a perfectly nice person, but, take it from someone who knows a thing or two about publicity scandals, this is going to be awful.”

“Thanks,” Josh drawls. Although, if he’s being honest, he does find it somewhat comforting to know he’s not the only one freaking out. “What do we do now?”

“Well,” Ale says thoughtfully, sinking even further down in his chair. “First we wait until someone informs my mother of this development. Then, you will no doubt be advised on how to proceed by a PR rep, while I will be killed.”

“Sounds fun,” Josh grunts. He hesitates for a second, unable to believe he’s about to ask his next question seriously, but then powering through. “Your mom, she’s the, uh, queen?”

Ale nods. “Maria Alejandra Isabella Vasquez. Also known as Her Royal Majesty, Queen Maria the Second. Who I’m sure is about to remember she has two other children, plus a grandchild on the way, and therefore the throne is still secure if she has me executed.”

He sounds so miserable, Josh almost feels sorry for him. Then he pictures how big of a wrench this is going to throw in his own life, and any sympathy he might be leaning towards goes right out the window. “I need a drink.”

“We can’t,” Ale says grimly. “If the next person to come in here finds that we’ve resorted to alcohol after it’s what got us into this mess, then we _will_ both be killed. Possibly by using some very medieval methods for maximum pain and gruesomeness. I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel much like being drawn and quartered today.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” Josh informs him. “Just like I don’t know how I woke up yesterday as a normal guy on vacation, and now today I’m married to a future king.”

“Oh, I’m not the heir,” Ale says, waving a hand like that’s of any comfort whatsoever. “My sisters are both older than me. I’m only third in line for the throne, soon to be forth since Francesca, who is the heir, is pregnant. That much, at least, you don’t have to worry about.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Josh asks. “Because I hate to break it to you, but it’s really not.”

Before Ale can reply, there’s a rather insistent knock on the door, followed by Sam’s voice. “Alejandro, open up. I’ve got an update for you.”

“It’s not locked,” Ale says, without bothering to get out of his chair. “Come on in.”

Sam does so, stepping inside, and then closing the door behind him with a quick snap. “Two things,” he says, without giving either Josh or Ale a chance to speak. “First, Goody’s on his way over to try and sort out damage control.”

“Of course he is,” Ale says, apparently forgetting the fact that Josh isn’t in the loop, and therefore has no idea what that means. “What’s the second thing?”

Sam smiles in a way that Josh finds distinctly unpleasant, and holds up a cellphone the same way one might a nuclear detonator. “Your mother would like a word.”

Ale now slinks so far down in his chair, Josh is surprised he doesn’t wind up on the floor. “Wonderful,” he says, burying his face in his hands. “Just wonderful.”

*****

‘Goody’ turns out to be a PR rep by the name of Goodnight Robicheaux. He’s a cagey looking little bastard, Josh thinks instantly upon meeting him, and he’s come armed to the teeth with all sorts of important sounding documents. Josh pretty much hates him on sight.

The same, however, cannot be said for Ale, who emerges from the bedroom he’d retreated into to talk with his mother looking like a victim of shell shock. His eyes fall on where Goodnight is unloading a whole bunch of things on the coffee table, and he lights up like a drowning man who’s miraculously been thrown a lifeline. “Please tell me you have a plan.”

“That depends on how you define plan, your highness,” Goodnight says flatly. “This isn’t the first mess you’ve gotten yourself into over the years, but it’s definitely the most spectacular. Don’t expect me to be able to simply snap my fingers and make the problem go away.”

“And what’s that mean when it’s at home?” Josh wants to know. He’s parked himself up against one of the walls, not wanting join Goodnight and Ale on the couch. “You people are royalty, why can’t you fix this?”

“First of all, he is the only person here who’s actual royalty,” Goodnight says, nodding at Ale. “The rest of us just happen to work for him. Second of all, royals, even visiting ones, aren’t above the law, and nor should they be.”

“Your marriage,” he continues on, seemingly oblivious to Josh’s increasing ire, “may be the result of a loveless, drunken bout of stupidity, but it was a legally binding loveless, drunken bout of stupidity. Trust me, I checked.”

Goodnight waits a moment for any potential responses to come in, and then keeps talking when he doesn’t get any. “Now, I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that neither of you knows much about the American divorce system.”

Josh briefly considers announcing that he has a friend who happens to be one of the best family law lawyers in the business, but he has a sneaking suspicion that bringing Emma up at this juncture won’t go over well. Besides, it’s not like he himself knows much about what she does.

He tunes back in to Goodnight, who’s still speaking, apparently oblivious to Josh having zoned out for a moment. “There’s a time period you have to wait to process a divorce, a lengthy one, and it can’t be done here. It has to be done in the State where one of the parties is ordinarily resident, so if you’re both sure an annulment is off the table ...”

Here he looks at Ale, who gives him a brittle smile. “We had sex,” he says flatly. “Multiple times. I may not remember everything, but I’ve got that much.”

“And lying under oath would negate the annulment if anyone ever got wind of it.” Goodnight sighs. “Alright then, it looks like we’re playing the long con for the next year.”

“Excuse me?” Josh blurts. He can’t possibly have heard that right. “A year? We have to wait a year to make this go away?”

“You live in California,” Goodnight replies, smirking slightly when Josh stutters. “You shouldn’t look so surprised. I’ve been digging into your history since I got the call this morning.”

“That is a huge invasion of privacy!” Josh snaps, glaring for all he’s worth. “You’ve got no right to go poking your nose into my fucking business.”

“I’m sorry?” Goodnight demands, and now it’s his turn to sound incredulous. “You, a perfect stranger, had a quickie marriage to a member of the royal family whose image it is my job to protect. If you think we’re not going to find out everything about you from your birthdate to your address to your shoe size, then you’re out of your mind. In less than twenty four hours, you’ve become one of the country’s biggest security threats.”

“Goody, stop it.” And there’s Ale finally speaking up again. Part of Josh is getting a little annoyed that he keeps needing the prince to call off his goons, but most of him is busy being grateful he’s willing to do it. “He’s a tourist who bought a man a drink on vacation, and things got a little out of hand. Nothing more.”

Sam grunts from where he’s been standing quietly by the door since Goodnight’s arrival. “One, you don’t get to judge the level of threat here, Alejandro, that’s our job. Two, calling this whole mess ‘nothing’ is about as far off the mark as you can possibly get, and you know it. Three, what did you turn up, Goody?”

Goodnight flaps a hand dismissively towards Josh, which does nothing to endear himself to him. “Given that I’ve only had an hour or so, it’s a minimal dossier at best, but nothing too horrible so far. Joshua Eliot Faraday, age twenty eight. Born in Missouri to Eleanor and Daniel Faraday. She was a nurse who passed away nine years ago, and I couldn’t find much on him.” He cocks his head at Josh. “Is there a reason for that?”

Josh smiles, and it must be as sharp as he intends because the other man actually takes a quick step away. “He went to get groceries when I was about two or so, and I reckon he must’ve taken a hell of a wrong turn on his way back on account of how he still hasn’t made it home.”

“...Right,” Goodnight says awkwardly. He pauses for a moment, and then makes an obvious decision to keep soldiering on. “Moved from Missouri to California at age eight, and been there ever since. Co-owner and operator of a mechanic shop along with a Mr. Red Harvest?”

Josh snorts. “You call Red mister to his face, and he’s either gonna laugh or punch you, maybe both.”

“Is that who you were on the phone with earlier?” Sam asks sharply, no doubt having picked up on the same.

“Yeah,” Josh says, seeing no point in lying. “Red and I have been friends since we were kids. He’s the first person I call whenever shit hits the fan.” Either that or Emma, he thinks silently, but she only gets first call when Red is right in the middle of the mess with him.

“You let him talk to someone?” Goodnight demands, looking wild. “Why in God’s name would you do that? That’s one more person we’re going to have to account for, damnit.”

Josh very carefully doesn’t say anything about the fact that Emma knows something’s up too. The last thing he wants to do is give Goodnight more crap to yell about.

“Regardless,” Ale says, speaking up again. “Goody, you can give us a full background check later,” and he at least has the common decency to shoot Josh an apologetic look. “What’s the plan? We just sit quietly on this for a year, and then file the paperwork?”

“Dear me,” Goodnight says, his voice going sickeningly sweet in a way that instantly gets Josh’s hackles up. “Wouldn’t it be lovely if that were an option, Alejandro? Wouldn’t it be great if the most logical and simple solution was available to us? Pity that it’s not.”

Pulling out a tablet from the mess of items stacked on the coffee table, he taps the screen once to rouse it, and then lets his fingers dance across the surface. “As always, I’ve got a whole system of alerts keyed up to let me know when you’ve gotten yourself up to no good. Which is why I already knew something had gone down before Sam called, since I woke up to this.”

Finding what he’s after, he calls up a specific picture, and then thrusts the tablet forward for both Josh and Ale to see. “It’s not a bad photo, all things considered,” he says as Josh is forced to stare at a shot of himself and Ale getting notably handsy in a club somewhere. “I particularly like the part of the headline that refers to Joshua here as a ‘royal mystery man’, but it’s definitely a problem.”

“Someone will find out who he is, who you are,” he adds for Josh’s benefit. “And then someone else will find out where he’s from, and what he does, and anything else they possibly can. Eventually people will dig into how you met, and the second that goes too deep, this entire debacle will come shooting to the surface.”

“Well, how do we stop that?” Josh asks. He feels stick to his stomach, and he barely resists the urge to bury his face in his hands. “How do we make it so that doesn’t happen?”

Goodnight shrugs. “We get ahead of it,” he says simply. “And then we lie.”

“Meaning?” Josh asks. He’s got no issue doing just that, has in fact bluffed his way out of more than one tricky situation, but here and now he can’t come up with the right angle on his own. He needs someone to tell him what to say.

“We provide an alternative scenario that’s intriguing enough for people to grab onto it,” Goodnight informs them. “Something that’s extraordinary, yet somehow plausible at the same time.”

“As far as the public is about to be concerned, last night wasn’t the first time you two met.” He holds first Josh and then Ale’s gaze like he expects protests to be forthcoming, and then carries on when none are. “We’re going to have to play it like you two were previously introduced - we’ll figure out the details of how later - and have been quietly talking and seeing each other for the past few months. You decided to spend a vacation together when Ale was sent here by her Majesty.”

“These photos,” and here he taps the tablet screen pointedly, “can be played off as the two of you getting a little caught up in the moment. You didn’t mean for things to be revealed so soon, but now that they have been you intend to be honest about it.”

Josh has never heard such a crock of shit in his life, and he says so. “No one will ever believe it,” he adds when Goodnight shoots him an affronted glare. “I say this as a person well versed in bullshit, it’s too out there.”

Goodnight snorts before jerking a thumb towards Ale. “Under normal, everyday circumstances, perhaps, but nothing is ever too outlandish where this one is concerned. For once it’s going to work in our favour to have his reputation proceed him.”

“I am standing right here,” Ale says dryly, though Josh notes he doesn’t exactly look offended. “I can hear you no trouble.”

“How nice for you,” Goodnight replies. “Now here’s the most important part. You’re about to be spending a lot more time than usual in California. In order to keep people distracted by the lie, we have to keep feeding it.”

“I really don’t like the sound of that,” Josh grumbles. The sick feeling that’s been lodged in his stomach all morning is somehow, impossibly getting worse. “How do we feed it?”

“Public courtship,” is the reply, and Josh doesn’t think he’s imagining the gleeful note in Goodnight’s voice. The bastard may not be enjoying the headache they’re causing him, but it’s clear he’s not above spreading the pain around. “Alejandro’s past antics are just wild enough that most people will accept a decision on his part to shirk much of his responsibility back home in order to chase a pretty mechanic.”

Josh considers what he’s hearing. “How,” he asks finally, “is this plan any less of a mess than what really happened? Either way, you’re basically telling me I’m fucked, and that my private life is open for business.”

“You are, and it is,” Goodnight says simply. “However, my way avoids the kind of scandal that could permanently mar the reputation of the royal family, and you’ll be much more likely to quietly return to your regular life once it’s over. The truth will leave you as the butt of a joke for the rest of your life.”

“Well,” Josh says grimly, and it’s very hard for him not to glare at everyone in the room. Especially Ale. “I suppose I don’t have much choice, do I?”

*****

“I’m sorry.”

Too busy pacing the room they’ve been told to stay put in like a caged animal, Josh doesn’t initially realize that Ale has spoken. It’s only after a number of seconds have passed that this registers. “What was that?”

Having migrated from one of the armchairs to the large sofa at one end of the room, Ale gives a one shoulder shrug where he’s sprawled lengthwise across the thing. “I said I’m sorry,” he repeats. “It just occurred to me, I don’t think I’ve apologized for getting you into this mess.”

There is a very large part of Josh that wants to grab Ale’s self-blame like a lifeline and then browbeat the man with it. Unfortunately, his conscience chooses this exact moment to rear its ugly head, and he stops moving with a sigh.

“Don’t apologize,” he says, unable to keep from grinning faintly when Ale jerks his head around to stare at him in surprise. “Don’t lock so shocked, dude. I’m man enough to admit that I got myself into this mess right along with you.”

“Maybe,” Ale says, and he’s looking at Josh like he’s a puzzle he can’t figure out, like he’s not toeing the party line. “You didn’t have all the facts, though. I’m sure you’d have been more hesitant if you’d known who I was.”

“Possibly?” Josh shrugs. “I honestly couldn’t say one way or the other. I came here to blow off some steam, and I do stupid shit when I’m in that kind of mood.”

“I see.” Sitting up slowly, Ale rearranges himself on the couch so that he can pin Josh squarely with his gaze. “Why did you need to blow off steam?”

That much Josh isn’t willing to discuss with him. It might not be anything bad, is in fact just him having been stressed due to not having taken time off in years, but it’s also nobody’s business but his own. “It doesn’t matter. My point is, I got myself into this as much as you did, and I’ll thank you to remember it.”

Ale still looks confused, but he doesn’t seem like he’s going to press the matter, which Josh decides to take as a win. As he watches, the prince - and he’s not getting over that any time soon - scrubs a tired hand over his face before flopping back into the cushions. “What a mess.”

“Mmhmm,” Josh agrees. “I can safely say this is a new one for me.”

“For me too,” Ale replies, “and I say that as someone who’s caused a scandal or two before.”

“Yeah,” Josh says, thinking over their talks with Sam and Goodnight. Those conversations had certainly involved a number of digs at Ale’s expense. “I have no idea if this means anything, but I don’t know anything about you.”

“And that is startlingly refreshing, I must admit. Even if it is a little hard to believe.” Ale grins sheepishly when Josh gives him a pointed look. “What can I say? I’m used to people knowing who I am.”

“Lucky you,” Josh grunts. “I’m not.”

“Yes,” his expression sobering, Ale looks contrite. “Joshua, I truly am sorry about everything.” He fidgets awkwardly for a moment, his fingers twitching noticeably, before he adds softly. “You should know that you’re free to handle this however you want. No one’s going to force you to go along with Goody’s plan. I promise.”

“I reckon your boys might have a thing or two different to say to that, but don’t worry about it,” Josh tells him. “I’m not interested in having this mess blow up anymore than it absolutely has to. I’ll play along with the plan.”

“Really?” Ale asks. It’s clear he’s skeptical, but Josh supposes in his shoes that makes sense. Hell, Josh himself isn’t entirely certain why he’s agreeing to this insane scheme - except for how he really doesn’t want the truth going public. Contrary to popular belief, he has some sense of shame.

“Yeah,” he says, realizing belatedly that he’s let the silence drag on for too long. He shrugs. “I mean, I can’t promise I’ll be any good at acting, or whatever, or even that I won’t somehow screw up and get busted, but I’m willing to try it this way.”

“Huh,” Ale says then. He stands unexpectedly, crossing the room to where Josh is eyeing him warily, and, of all things, holds out his hand to shake. “It looks like we have a deal, guero. I promise to try and make the whole experience as painless as possible.”

Against his better judgement, Josh takes the proffered hand with a grin.

“Here’s to the next year, I guess.”


	2. Chapter 2

Needing to get back to his work at some point, Josh had been scheduled to fly out the next day. He asks Goodnight that morning if that’s still going to work, and is told in no uncertain terms that it will.

 “We want to get you both out of here as soon as possible,” the man says while Josh lets out a relieved sigh and goes back to his packing. “People are already scrambling to figure out who, what, and where you are, so moving you is high priority.”

“And Ale too?” Josh asks, not missing the way Goodnight winces at his casual tone. Apparently accidentally having married the man doesn’t justify referring to him with any sense of familiarity. “You said you want to get us both out, which I assume includes him.”

“You assume correctly,” Goodnight replies. He again looks pained, but Josh thinks this time that might have more to do with the incredibly garish shirt he’s just held up before flinging it back into his suitcase.

For obvious reasons, Josh and Ale had not been scheduled to stay in the same hotel during their respective trips. Never mind the different things they were supposed to have been getting up to, the only way Josh could have afforded to stay in Ale’s hotel would’ve been by selling a kidney on the black market. As such, all his belongings had been elsewhere upon waking up.

Josh had wanted to go back himself to retrieve them, but Sam put his foot down heavily enough that even Ale hadn’t dared to argue with him. Instead, another guard, this one a slim Asian man who looked like he had ice in his veins, had been dispatched to take care of it. He’d returned with both of Josh’s suitcases in tow, and told him to feel free to check and make sure everything was there.

Deciding to do exactly that, Josh had just finished with the first and moved on to the second when Goodnight arrived with the news of their next steps.

 “My flight’s supposed to leave around six thirty,” he grunts as he checks over his shaving kit. It looks intact, but he can’t help wonder if the security guy hadn’t gone through all of his shit before bringing it over. Part of him wants to flat out ask, but he decides against it - dude hadn’t seemed overly friendly. “Am I gonna be allowed to go to the airport by myself?” 

“Not on your life,” Goodnight informs him. “In fact, you’re not getting on that plane at all.” He holds up a hand to forestall any protests when Josh whips around to glare at him. “We need to keep tabs on both you and his highness, and we don’t currently have the resources in this country to do that if you’re not in the same place. Additionally, leaving you exposed out in the open could see you getting mobbed by so-called journalists if you get recognized. Does that sounds like fun to you?” 

“No,” honesty compels Josh to admit. He turns back to his bags, glaring sullenly into their depths. “How am I getting home then?”

 “Private charter,” is the reply. “We’re in the process of lining up a place to use as a royal residence for the duration of this farce. Once we’ve got something, we can bring you both to California and get everything set up.” 

“So, what?” Josh asks. “Are you gonna, like, buy him a mansion or something and put him in it for the next year?”

“More likely it’ll be a condo,” Goodnight says, not missing a beat. “They’re more secure, and easier to keep private. He’s used to having his life out in the open, but we’re still going to try and minimize the disruption.”

“Good luck with that,” Josh grunts, closing his suitcase with a snap. “Good fuckin’ luck.” 

***** 

Aside from a brief moment of panic when Josh’s wallet seems nowhere to be found, packing goes fairly smoothly. Even better, said wallet eventually turns up in the ensuite bathroom, stashed away among a stack of towels for some unfathomable reason.

“Maybe you put it there for safe keeping?” Ale suggests. Alerted by Josh’s triumphant cry, he’s now standing in the doorway after having been searching out in the living room.

 “Who the hell uses a bathroom for safe keeping?” Josh wants to know. Tugging the wallet free, he swears when a bunch of the towels tumble down. “What was I doing, tucking it in for the night?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Ale admits, his gaze turning rueful. “I really was astonishingly drunk, I’m afraid.”

“Can’t day as I’m surprised,” Josh says absently, shifting to restack the fallen towels. “You’d‘ve had to have been to think marrying me was a good idea, and - oh, hey, look at these.” 

It turns out Josh’s wallet isn’t the only thing to have made it into the bathroom during the fateful night. Along with it, he’s just come across a pair of slim silver rings, the bands glinting under the overhead light. “Looks like the marriage license wasn’t the only thing we picked up.”

“Hmm?” Shuffling into the room, Ale leans over Josh’s shoulder for a better look. “Oh,” he says, when he spots the rings now resting in the palm of Josh’s hand. “I suppose that’s to be expected. We would have needed to use something, even cheap ones like those.”

 “What makes you think they’re cheap?” Josh asks. Admittedly he’s no expert on jewelry, but they look fine to him. Kind of classy with a simple elegance.

 Behind him, Ale scoffs. “I’m very rich, Joshua,” he says primly, “and I know quality when I see it. These probably cost less than a hundred dollars each. I apologize for giving you such a lacklustre wedding band.” 

Josh cranes his neck around to stare at him for a long minute. Then he slips the rings into the back pocket of his jeans, not wanting to leave them behind for the cleaning staff to find and ask questions about. “You’re really fucking weird, you know that?”

 Ale shrugs. “Weird is in the eye of the beholder.”

Josh has nothing to counter that with. “Let’s just get out of here,” he sighs. “Are you ready to go?”

At Ale’s nod, he lets out another sigh, this one one of relief, and shoulders past him out of the bathroom. The security guard who isn’t Sam is waiting out in the living room, and he looks up as they approach.

“All set?” He asks. His voice is quiet, innocuous even, and therefore shouldn’t make the hair on the back of Josh’s neck stand up the way it does. Idly, Josh wonders if that’s something they train into you at royal bodyguard school. 

“Yes, Billy, thank you,” Ale replies, ever the polite one. “We’re ready when you are.” 

“Good,” Billy nods. “Wait here. I’ll tell you when to go.” Touching an earpiece that Josh has only now realized he’s wearing, he turns his back to them and moves towards the front entrance, speaking low enough into his mic that they can’t hear him.

Not knowing what else to do, Josh starts to reach for his bags, but stops when Ale shakes his head.

 “Someone will get them for you,” the prince says. “Take the carryon if you like, I suppose, but leave the big ones here.”

 Given that he’s already suspected Billy of going through said bags, there doesn’t seem to be much point in protesting. Slinging the small carryon over his shoulder, Josh leaves the others where they are.

 Eventually Billy reappears, and they’re escorted through the hallway, down the elevator and into a secure area of the parking garage where a trio of black SUVs with tinted windows are waiting for them. Josh bites back a slightly hysterical giggle at the thought that they look like something out of a movie, before he and Ale are shoved into the vehicle in the middle. 

A handful of guards, Sam among them, mill about getting ready, and then their little caravan is off to the airport. They bypass security through some kind of special outlet, and the next thing Josh knows he’s standing on the tarmac as mechanics flit over what appears to be a private jet.

“This is insane,” he murmurs, the first thing he’s said since leaving the hotel. He watches as a stairway slowly unfurls at the side of the plane, fidgeting awkwardly, not knowing what to do with his hands. 

Ale, of course, chooses this exact moment to be somewhat observant, even if he does jump to the wrong conclusion. “Nervous flyer?” He asks gently, nodding towards where Josh is rapidly tapping his fingers again and again over the strap of his carryon bag. “I’m sure we can get you something to help with that.” 

Josh’s fingers still. “Like what, Xanax?” He half snaps. “I hate to break it to you, your highness, but it ain’t the idea of of getting on a plane that has me up in arms. It’s getting on that plane with _you._  Crazy as it sounds, this wasn’t how I pictured my trip ending.” 

“Ah,” looking contrite, Ale ducks his head in understanding. “Apologies, guero. I wish there was another way.”

Whether he’s talking about the plane ride or the much larger picture, Josh doesn’t particularly care. Telling himself sternly that he’d agreed to this, and had very good reasons for doing so, he snaps his mouth shut and stares resolutely ahead until Billy signals for them to step forward. 

Sam’s waiting for them as they reach the plane. He climbs up in front of them, while Billy and the rest follow along behind, effectively sandwiching them in. They’re shown into a spacious cabin area, one Josh can’t help but notice is furnished more nicely than his entire apartment. 

He drops weakly into the first available seat, resting his bag on his lap like some kind of shield, while Ale settles on a couch across from him, and Sam and Billy prowl about doing whatever it is bodyguards do.

“Goody’s gone on ahead,” Sam says once he’s apparently deemed everything secure. “He’s got a high end condo picked out for you within a reasonable distance of Mr. Faraday’s residence, and he’s off making sure it’s as ready as can be when you get in.”

For some reason that makes Ale wince, and give Billy an apologetic look. “Sorry,” he starts to say, but anything else gets cut off with a minute shrug and a wave of the guard’s hand. “Right.”

Sam clears his throat, effectively dragging all attention back to him. “As I was saying, Goody’s dealing with the housing situation. He’s also planning damage control where the friend Faraday informed is concerned. Someone else will be picking him up upon arrival.”

 Josh starts at that. “You can’t just grab him,” he blurts, honestly appalled. Visions of Red’s reaction to having royal guards show up on his doorstep are dancing before his eyes. “He’ll freak out, and that won’t end well for anyone.”

Sam gives him a flat look. “Shockingly,” he says dryly, “we’re not in the habit of picking people up off the street with no warning, especially in foreign countries. I was hoping you’d message him and help arrange something.” 

“Oh,” Josh says, sagging down in his seat. He hasn’t spoken with Red since yesterday morning, too confused by what to say. That’s probably going to come back and bite him in the ass now. “I guess that’s not too bad of an idea.”

“It’s been known to happen to me from time to time,” Sam agrees. “If you wouldn’t mind calling him when we land, I’m sure we can work something out.” 

He waits until Josh gives a hesitant nod, and then gestures to Billy. “Under the circumstances, I don’t think the world will end if we give them some semblance of privacy.” He nods at Ale. “We’ll be in the guard’s space if you need us.”

Josh watches them go until a wooden panelled door closes behind them, and only then does he really look around the spot they’ve been sealed into. It’s ... fancy. “Do I dare ask how much this thing cost?”

 Ale shrugs. “Truth be told, you can ask as much as you like. I don’t actually know.”

Unsure of whether or not that’s a good thing or a bad thing, Josh gives the area another once over, his gaze finally settling on what he thinks is a mini-fridge. “Any chance there’s booze in there?”

“There definitely is,” Ale says, following his gaze. “But my previous point stands. Now is not the time for us to be getting drunk with everything that’s happened. My mother really will disown me if I push her too far.”

“...Right,” Josh says, trying not to picture what that meant the Queen might be willing to do tohim. “Think maybe I’ll just try and nap then. Unless there was something you wanted?”

Ale makes a face Josh can’t parse out, and then shakes his head. “Feel free to do whatever you prefer,” he says kind of awkwardly. “I’m fine.”

Josh isn’t sure what to say to that, so in the end he says nothing. Turning away slightly, he angles his body more comfortably in his seat, and does his best to will himself into a nap.

*****

He must be successful, because the next thing he knows their ride is touching down at another airport, and Sam wanders into the room to tell them to get ready to disembark. At the same time, Josh is instructed to call Red and get him to meet them where they’re going.

“And where exactly would that be?” Josh asks. He’s not at all surprised when Sam rhymes off the address for one of the most expensive condominiums in the city. Maybe he should be - from what Emma’s told him the wait list is insane - but such mundane issues probably don’t apply to royalty.

Red’s voice is cautious when he picks up the phone, suggesting he knows something’s up. This only gets more pronounced when Josh says where he wants to meet, but his friend agrees to play along.

“Leave Jack where he is though,” Josh says right before he hangs up. Where they’re going is likely no place for the rambunctious dog. “I’ll pick him up when we’re done.”

“What about my car?” He asks when he turns the phone off with Red still grumbling in his ear. He nods towards the main entrance of the airport, and the parking garage beyond it. “It’s still in there.”

Sam gives him a look that suggests he doesn’t much care, but relents when Ale comes to stand next to Josh with one eyebrow raised inquisitively. “Hand over the keys,” he says, holding out his hands. “I’ll dispatch someone to bring it over later.” 

Josh feels like this is something he should consider arguing about, but he’s honestly too tired at this point. He’ll play nice for the rest of the day, he decides, then he’ll mentally regroup and see about things to put his foot down for. 

The condo isn’t really near Josh’s own neighbourhood, located in a part of the city that he’s only vaguely familiar with. That puts him a step up on Ale, however, who cranes his neck to look out the window as they drive, taking in the sights of his now temporary home. 

“Nice city,” he murmurs at one point, and Josh nods because it is.

An honest to god doorman lets them in the main entrance of the condo when they arrive, and Josh wonders if the place always has this much visible security around. Deciding he can’t be bothered to ask, he trails after both Sam and Ale with a sigh, Billy bringing up the rear yet again.

They’re lead to what turns out to be a private elevator to the penthouse suite. The ride to the top is one of the longest of Josh’s life, and he’s surprised to hear not one, but two familiar voices as they approach the front by door.

“Oh no,” Josh groans as realization dawns. He probably should have expected this after everything, but he hadn’t. “Red didn’t come alone.”

“Hmm?” Ale asks, but then the door is swinging open, and they’re being ushered into an entranceway big enough to house half of Josh’s apartment. It also, he notes, currently holds Goodnight, Red, and Emma.

Emma, that is, whose head snaps around upon their arrival, moving fast enough that her russet coloured ponytail swings back and forth in a sharp arc in the process. “Josh, what the hell is going on? What did you do?”

“And how long before you can take Jack back?” Red asks helpfully, grunting when Emma smacks him in the chest. “What? You’d be asking the same thing if you were me.”

“We’ve got more important questions,” Emma snaps, smacking him again. “Like why were told to meet you here, why we were escorted up by what I’m pretty sure were armed guards, and who the hell he is,” she adds, jerking her head towards Goodnight.

“If I may,” another voice says quickly, “maybe I’m the best choice to explain all that.” 

Emma gasps as Ale steps out from behind Josh, and instead comes forward to stand beside him. “Oh fuck,” she says, clearly recognizing the prince. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. Josh what did you do?”

“Oh so many things,” Goodnight grumbles from where he’s shuffled off to one side. “Not the least of which is making my life a walking nightmare for the foreseeable future. Would you like to hear it in their own words, or will mine suffice?” 

“I’ve got this,” Josh says quickly. While he doubts Goodnight will lie about anything, he also figures the man will be less than charitable in how he tells the truth. Deciding he’d rather have his friends get that from him, he looks around for a safe place. “Is there somewhere more private we could go?” He asks. “Like an office or a bedroom?”

“No bedrooms!” Goodnight snaps, blushing faintly when everyone stares at him. “Sorry, it’s been a long couple of days. There is an office,” he adds in a more reasonable tone of voice. “As well as a den through there. Why don’t you use either of those?”

 Not wanting to press his luck, Josh nods, and leads both Red and Emma on ahead of him. Ale follows, because of course he does, and closes the door to the office securely behind himself once the for of them are inside. “They won’t stay away forever, but I’m sure they’ll give us some time.” 

“Uh huh,” Red says skeptically, while next to him Emma starts tapping her foot impatiently.

“Josh.” She says firmly. “I expected you to bring back a hangover from Vegas, and maybe a couple of souvenirs. Nowhere on that list did members of royalty fit in. Start. Talking.” 

“Fine,” Josh sighs, squaring his shoulders, “but no telling anybody. By which I mean definitely,” he adds with every fibre of his being, “no telling Matthew. That man’s got the loosest lips I’ve ever seen on a person, and I don’t want the royal guard coming after me.”

“I don’t really get to use them,” Ale pipes up helpfully, while Emma makes a face at Josh’s description of her husband. “They’re more for ceremonial purposes. I mainly just have Sam and Billy.” 

“Sam and Billy are more than enough trouble all on their own,” Josh says firmly. He has a sudden, horrifying vision of both men coming for him in the night, and can’t quite hide his shudder. “Red, Emma, this stays between us. I mean it. Anyone else gets wind of it, and shit’s gonna hit the fan.” 

“I can have them sign non-disclosure agreements,” Ale suggests, which is when Josh considers throttling him for what has to be at least the hundredth time since they’d woken up in that hotel room. It’s like he never thinks before he speaks. 

“No non-disclosure agreements,” Josh snaps. He looks at his friends, knowing full well it’s time to bite the bullet. “His highness and I may have engaged in the time honoured Las Vegas tradition of drunken quickie weddings, and now we’re stuck with each other until enough time passes to get a divorce through.”

“That’ll take a year,” Emma blurts, her inner divorce attorney apparently busting out before she can turn on her brain to mouth filter. Next to her, Red - solid, somber, dependable Red - bursts out laughing. 

“Nice,” Josh grunts, feeling a strong urge to pinch him the way he used to do when they were kids. “This is serious, you fucker. Knock it off!” 

“Serious?” Red echoes in between snickers. “Serious? Josh, you got married in Las Vegas to - I’m sorry, I assume I’m supposed to know who he is?” Flapping a hand in Ale’s direction, he turns to Emma for confirmation.

She makes a face. “You remember how we were talking the other night about how Josh being in Vegas could be a recipe for disaster with a visiting prince nearby? Or how we were joking, rather?” She jerks her head towards Ale. “We might have tempted fate.” 

His laughter fading, Red peers more closely at Ale, who waves. “...fuck.” 

“It wasn’t my fault,” Josh protests. “I didn’t recognize him, so I offered to buy him a drink. Then I think he bought me one. Whatever happened, there were many, many drinks, okay?”

“I’ve seen you have plenty of drinks before,” Red points out. “I don’t remember them ever making you think marriage was a good idea, though.” 

“Yeah, well,” Josh mutters. “Neither of us can actually remember whose idea it was,” he admits. “But, I mean, it was Vegas, and we were both hammered. Probably we just wandered by a chapel in a drunken stupor and one thing lead to another.”

“Please tell me you’re not going to pitch that to Goody as an explanation,” Ale says, sounding pained. “I’m willing to have your back in this if you have mine, but that’s a little much.”

“I’m not pitching anything to anybody,” Josh says. “I’m just trying to tell them what happened as best I can.”

“Emma’s right,” he adds, focusing back on his friends. “We’re stuck like this for a year, and that guy you met, the PR one? He’s coming up with a whole bunch of plans to do as much damage control as possible. You guys are here because I called Red without permission before they could stop me.”

He half expects Ale to offer up some kind of protest, or his own point of view, but when he looks over the prince merely shrugs in acknowledgement. “You can’t tell anyone,” he stresses. “For all our sakes.”

Stressing that last bit, Josh holds first Emma’s gaze and then Red’s. He trusts both of these people with his life, and on top of that there’s no way either of them is going to want the media snooping into their own lives as well, especially Red, who’s notoriously private. “Guys, please.”

“Oh, quit it with the puppy dog eyes, Josh,” Emma snorts. “It makes you look nauseous, not convincing. You know we’re in. Just tell us what to do.”

“Um?” Josh tries, looking to Ale for help when it dawns on him that he has no idea what’s expected of Red and Emma at this point. “I wish I could.” 

“Goody will brief you as soon as he’s ready,” Ale says easily. “That probably won’t be before he’s done with Joshua and I, however. For now, I suppose just keep everything to yourselves and wait until we’re all told how to proceed.” 

“And when will that be?” Emma asks.

Right on cue there’s a knock on the door, followed by Goodnight poking his head. “I assume you’ve had long enough to get at least the key facts out,” he says. “Excellent,” he adds when everybody nods.

“Now then,” he says, opening the door the rest of the way and stepping inside. “Alejandro, I have a bunch of things I need you to sign regarding the purchase of this condo, I need to give you a tour of same, and we need to work out your security detail.” 

“What about me?” Josh asks plaintively. “Do I have to stay here too, or can I go home?”

Goodnight gives him a long look before finally relenting. “I’ve got assistants preparing a briefing packet for both you and your friends. If you promise to go to your apartment and stay there, I could use a few days to tighten them up.” 

Josh holds up his hands palms out. “Believe me, I do not want any of this getting out, so I am gonna keep my mouth shut. Same goes for Red and Emma.” 

Goodnight looks first at Josh, and then his friends, who both nod. “Fine,” he sighs, “it’s not like we can keep you all under lock and key for the next year anyway. Sam already vetoed that suggestion, the bastard.” 

“However,” he says icily, sounding for the first time line someone not to be trifled with, “If I find out that one of you says something they shouldn’t, so help me god they will never find the bodies. I am a very smart man, and I have dangerous allies.”

“No using Billy as a threat,” Ale commands, while Josh is still trying to figure out how to respond. “Or anyone else you might have connections to.”

Goodnight sniffs. “Highness, you truly do take all the fun out of life.” 

*****

Instead of going straight home, Josh follows Red back to his place to retrieve Jack. Only once his dog is safely stowed away in the back of his car does he head for the apartment located on top of the garage he and Red own. He breathes a sigh of relief at finally being in his own space, with no one official looking in sight, and promptly faceplants into his bed.

He wakes the next morning with the faint hope that the last three days might have all been a booze-induced fever dream. That lasts all of ten minutes before he receives a text from Emma that simply says “Your name is out”, accompanied by a link to an online article titled “Vegas Mystery Man Found”. Groaning, he resolves to at least get some breakfast in him before he reads it.

More texts come in as he’s munching on a bowl of cereal, and eventually his phone rings. 

“It’s starting,” Goodnight says without preamble. “They don’t seem to have any addresses yet, or know that his highness is in the city, but we need to have that briefing now. Stay where you are, we’re coming to you.”

 He hangs up again before Josh has a chance to reply, leaving him staring at a blank screen. Not knowing what else to do, Josh shakes himself, and decides to go about his normal morning routine. He finishes eating, gets dressed, runs Jack outside, but instead of then going down into the shop, he goes back upstairs to wait. 

He’s not left in there for long. About ten more minutes pass by until the downstairs buzzer goes off. Hitting the intercom he’d had installed to make sure it was friends and not customers trying to get into his place, he grunts. “Yeah.”

“We’re downstairs,” a voice says crisply. Josh recognizes it as Billy’s. “Let us in.”

Thinking that it wouldn’t kill the guy to say please, Josh nevertheless agrees, and hits the key to unlock the door. “Come on up.”

Billy’s the first one inside, peering around the place like he’s assessing it for potential threats. Meanwhile, Ale’s trailing along behind him looking bored.

“Sam is downstairs going over your shop,” he says, while Billy wanders off to do who knows what. “I hope you don’t mind. Goody’s still in the car. I imagine he’ll be up as soon as he’s done yelling at whoever it is he’s got on the phone.”

“I saw the news article,” Josh replies. “Someone found out my name.”

“Yes,” Ale says, and if doesn’t sound surprised, he at least has the grace to look mildly apologetic. “I’m sorry this happened so soon. I was hoping we’d have at least a little more time to get everything ready.”

“Not to mention everyone,” Billy says, reappearing from where he’d ducked into the kitchen momentarily. “I’m going to go find Goody and see if he’s ready. Both of you wait here.” He turns to leave before anyone can protest, and his footsteps can be faintly heard as he heads down out of the apartment and down the stairs.

“So,” Ale says once they’re alone. “This is where you live.”

Josh considers bristling at his tone, but if he’s being honest, his place really isn’t much to look at, and is probably even less so for someone with as much money as Ale. “Yeah,” he says instead, “this is it.”

“Mm.” Apparently done with talking, Ale starts doing a slow circle of the available space, moving like an explorer in uncharted territory. “It’s nice.” 

“...thanks?” Josh tries, unsure if Ale’s being serious or not. He watches as the man does another circuit of the room, wondering if all their interactions over the next year (or 362 days and counting) are going to be this awkward. 

“Your friends seem nice too,” Ale adds. “The two from yesterday, I mean.”

Josh stares at him, and wonders very seriously if the man is one of those people who’re all looks an no brains. He doesn’t think that’s the case. Precedent so far suggests that he’s more than just a pretty face. On the other hand, Josh vaguely recalls learning in school that royalty has a tendency towards marrying their cousins and being inbred, so what does he know?

“Are you serious?” He asks, once he’s realized he’s let the silence drag on for too long. “They’re total assholes.”

Ale blinks, his expression morphing into one of confusion. “Then why are you friends with them?”

“Because I’m also a total asshole,” Josh grunts. “Try and keep up, your majesty.”

This earns him an eye roll followed by a smirk. “It’s your highness. Your majesty is what people are supposed to call my mother.”

Josh stares at him. “Did you honestly just make a ‘your mom’ joke about your own self? You freak,” he says, impressed in spite of himself when Ale grins. “You royal types are messed up.”

“A little bit,” Ale admits, “but we do alright. Besides, one could no doubt argue that you’re messed up too, guero. I certainly got that vibe from your friends the other day.” 

“I stand by what I said, though,” he adds. “They did seem nice, and they took the news surprisingly well.” 

Josh shrugs. “Red’s basically unflappable,” he says, “has been since we were kids, and Emma’s a divorce lawyer. For all I know, this isn’t even the most ridiculous marriage she’s had to deal with.”

Ale raises his eyebrows for a moment, and then grins. “Maybe we should ask her to help us with the paperwork when the time comes.” He suggests.

Unexpectedly, Josh finds himself grinning back. He and Ale really haven’t had much time to talk over the past few days. Even though they’ve been sandwiched together constantly, there’s always been the threats of one of the guards or Goodnight bursting in on them unexpectedly. Not to mention the ever present fear of media arrival. Standing together in the middle of his living room, though, knowing that things are finally moving, makes Josh wonder if maybe they might have enough in common to make this work.

Then, of course, Goodnight comes storming in waving a file folder like it’s the most important thing in the world, all while hissing rapidly into his phone in what sounds like a mixture of both French and English. Needless to say, it’s enough to break the spell.

Eventually, Goodnight cuts his conversation off, and flips open his file, dropping it into Josh’s kitchen table, and gesturing for he and Ale to join him, while Billy takes up position near the doorway. “Alright,” he says firmly. “Let’s get started.”

What follows are many, many hours of Josh’s life that he’d love to get back. Goodnight walks them through a list of dos and don’ts as long as either of their arms, and provides Josh with a schedule of meetings he can look forward to. Apparently one briefing isn’t enough - he’s going to be given lessons on everything from how to address a Queen to how to deal with the press to what he can and cannot do with his time.

He’s going to be allowed to keep his work and his apartment, which - he doesn’t say as much since it’s a non issue - but if they’d tried to take that from him he’d have walked away and not looked back. He’s getting a security detail (unwelcome, but at least he manages to convince them to stay out of his actual home), and he has to do away with any online presence.

“That’s not a problem,” he says when Goodnight gives him a look like he’s expecting a fight. “All I’ve got is Facebook, and I hardly ever use it anyway. I can delete it.”

“I see,” Goodnight replies, clearly not having expected him to give in so easily. “Well, that’s one less thing to worry about then. Moving on.”

Living arrangements are fairly simple. As noted, Josh gets to keep his apartment (with bonus upgraded alarm system, he’s told), and Ale will be staying at the condo. They’re both going to be seen at the other’s place, but no overnights.

“Why would we do that?” Ale asks at this point. “We’re not actually dating, remember?”

Goodnight gives him a flat look. “No, but people will think you are, and with that comes expectations. Ignore them, and god help you, Alejandro, if you go sneaking around during this mess. Infidelity is not what I want going down as the cause of your inevitable break up.”

“I don’t cheat,” Ale sputters, actually looking annoyed for once. “I’ve never cheated!”

“Regardless,” Goodnight tells him. “We have to make this look good, and that means neither of you can risk anything. Got it?”

“Yes,” Ale grumbles, and Josh nods to show his agreement.

“Now then,” Goodnight tells them, promptly switching gears again. “Let’s talk image.”

Josh only barely resists the sudden urge to groan out loud. “Can’t we save that for another day?” He pleads. They’ve been at this for what feels like years now, and he doubts he’s physically capable of cramming any more info into his head. “You people are exhausting.”

Goodnight - and what the hell kind of name is that, anyway, Josh still wants to know. Surely it’s made up - sniffs. “If you didn’t want to deal with all the folderol, then maybe you should have thought twice about marrying a member of the royal family at random. Except, oh wait,” he continues on, blatantly ignoring Josh as he mouths the word ‘folderol’ at Ale, “you couldn’t think twice about it because you were drunk as the proverbial skunk!”

Here he slaps the file he’d brought in with him, the force of the blow such that it makes the legs of Josh’s cheap kitchen table rattle beneath it. “Which is exactly the kind of thing we need to address.”

“Meaning?” Josh asks icily, not liking where this is going.

“Meaning, you drink too much,” Goodnight says bluntly. “You also, based on what I’m seeing in here, gamble too much, enjoy bar room brawls, and may or may not have stolen a dog sometime within the last three years.”

“That was dropped,” Josh says instantly. “I took him off a couple of bastards who were using him in a dogfighting ring. They tried to say I stole him to get him back, and wound up getting arrested themselves for what they were doing. Me, I got a pat on the back from the cops for rescuing him.”

“...hmm.” That particular detail must not have shown up in Goodnight’s little background check because now he looks thoughtful. “We might be able to use that. Everyone loves a Good Samaritan story, especially where animals are concerned. Do you still have the dog?”

Josh gestures towards his closed bedroom door. He’d stashed Jack away before his guest’s arrival due to him not always being the best with new people. With luck, the mutt won’t have eaten or peed on anything in there as protest against his confinement.

“He ain’t much of a people person,” he says when Goodnight looks like he’s about to open the door. “Mainly he really only likes me, and tolerates a few folks he knows well.”

“Will he attack if he’s let out?” This comes from Billy, who’s so far been silent for the last while. The guy eyes the closed door warily, like he’s trying to size up the danger it might represent.

“Not if I’m here to keep an eye on him,” Josh says quickly. He’s got no desire to see how these people might react to a perceived threat to their prince. “But that doesn’t mean he’ll be perfectly behaved. He doesn’t have the best manners.”

“I can’t possibly imagine how that might have happened,” Goodnight says dryly. He shares a look with Billy, the two of them having an entire conversation with their facial expressions, before turning back to Josh. “Bring him out please. I want to see what I’m dealing with.”

“Fine,” Josh says, “but you might want to be careful of anything you leave in reach. There ain’t much he won’t try to eat.”

Leaving them to their fate where their belongings are concerned, he turns his back on the three men, and crosses to the bedroom. Easing the door open, he finds Jack sprawled out over the bed in all his glory. “Hey, fella,” he says when Jack raises his head and thumps his ragged tail in greeting. “You wanna come out and say hi?”

“Oh, sweet lord,” Goodnight says, looking aghast when Jack trots into the room. “That’s not a dog, it’s a collection of spare parts, one that looks like it probably eats babies.” 

“Hey,” Josh snaps, instantly on the defensive. He steps in front of Jack, who - no doubt picking up on the tension - starts to growl as his hackles go up. “You watch what you say about him.”

“I assure you, I’ve got no desire to say anything about him, except that we should maybe consider having him stay somewhere else for the duration of this plot. Replacing him with a more aesthetically pleasing animal would work better with the media.”

“Excuse me.” The words aren’t even a question when they leave Josh’s mouth, just a flat statement as he goes from zero to one-eighty on the highway towards rage. Next to him, he’s pretty sure Jack is now showing teeth. “Do you wanna repeat that?”

Rather than answer Josh, Goodnight turns to Ale, holding out his hands like he’s looking for someone to show reason. “I told you we need to worry about image here. I can sell the initial attraction as you going for a bad boy, lord knows you’ve done that before, even if not quite to this extent, but there are limits, Alejandro.”

“Everyone has limits, Goody,” Ale replies. He nods to where Josh is standing with his hands clenched into fists, keeping himself bodily between Jack and the rest of the people in the room. “For instance, I think you’ve just pushed Joshua past his.”

Finally seeming to clue into the fact that he’s overstepped his bounds, Goodnight raises his hands placatingly. “I recognize that some of the things I’ve said tonight may be a little harsh, but -“

“Get out of my house.” Josh says, his voice low and vicious. “Get the fuck out right now, or so help me god, I will personally hand this entire fucking mess over to whatever media person I can find, and let you deal with that instead.”

“But -“

“You heard him, Goody,” and that’s Ale stepping in smoothly before Josh can get even more worked up. “You too, Billy,” he says to his bodyguard. “The both of you can wait downstairs. I’ll join you in a minute.”

There’s a brief moment where Billy looks wary of leaving Ale alone with Josh, but then he nods, and ducks out of the room, ushering Goodnight along in front of him. Their footsteps echo through the room as they clomp down the stairs, until eventually the sound of the door opening and closing signals that they’re gone.

“I’m sorry,” Ale says then, blurting the apology out before Josh can even try and figure out if he wants to throw him out too. “Joshua, I’m so sorry. That was entirely inappropriate, and I promise no one will talk to you like that again.”

He sounds absolutely sincere, and what’s more, he looks it. As Josh watches, he runs a hand roughly through his hair, making the dark curls stand up on end, before he blows a harsh breath out through his nose.

“Goody should not have phrased his concerns the way he did, and he certainly shouldn’t have suggested anything where - I’m sorry, what’s the dog’s name?”

“Jack. Well, One-Eyed Jack’s his full title,” Josh says, reaching down to scratch behind the dog’s ears as some of his anger starts to fade. “You can probably figure out why.”

Jack sits down heavily on Josh’s foot at this, gazing up at Ale with his one good eye as he starts to pant. He does look like something of a brute, Josh knows, what with his scars, his missing eye, and his patchy tail, but none of that’s his fault.

“I can, yes,” Ale says, and now he smiles crookedly down at the dog. “Not that it’s any excuse, but I can also see why people might be made nervous by him. He looks like quite the scrapper.”

“Yeah,” Josh says slowly, still scratching Jack’s ears. “He wasn’t full grown when I got him, but I figure he was in more than one bout before I stepped in. The scars are all from before he was with me.”

“I see,” Ale says quietly, and now he’s looking at Jack with a whole lot more sympathy than before. “You said he was being mistreated in a dogfighting ring, is that how he lost his eye?”

Josh nods. “That and part of his tail too. I brought him to the closest vet, but they could only do so much. One guy even made noise about putting him down because he was in real rough shape.”

“Let me guess,” Ale asks dryly. “You punched him.”

“I did not,” Josh replies loftily. “But I will admit it was a near thing. Instead, I forked over a whole bunch of money I didn’t really have, and when he got better, I brought him home. He’s been with me ever since.”

“And he’s going to stay that way,” Ale says, voice firm. “Hell, given the size of him, we should be considering him as extra security, not a problem.”

That makes Josh laugh. “I won’t lie, I don’t worry too much about break-ins with him around. He’ll back off so long as I tell him to, but he’s not a guy you’d want to cross in a dark alley.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ale informs him. “However, I mean it when I say no one’s going to be making noise about him being a negative image, or whatever, again. “Likewise, they’re not going to be saying such things about you, either.”

Then he glances down at his watch, and winces. “I should be getting back, though, it’s late, and I’m probably going to have to do damage control for whatever’s been relayed to my mother this time.”

Josh winces. “Sorry,” he says, truly meaning the apology. “I’m not trying to be as difficult as I seem, I swear.”

Ale shrugs. “Don’t worry about it, guero. If I had people implying all kinds of nasty things about me, I wouldn’t be keen to do them any favours either.”

“I’ll be talking to everyone about that too,” he adds as he gets ready to leave. “Goodnight may only be doing his job, but a little tact certainly wouldn’t hurt. Again, I’m sorry he basically implied you’re a gambling drunk who engages in petty crime.”

This time it’s Josh who shrugs. He rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck, suddenly not wanting to look Ale in the eye. “Might be he’s not as far off the mark there as I’d like,” he mumbles, his gaze locked on the tiles of his kitchen floor.

Because of the way he’s looking down, he misses it when Ale shifts to reduce the space between the two of them. He only notices when the man hooks a few fingers under his chin to force his head back up.

“Don’t you realize?” He asks softly, “Just how much worse you could make this situation for me if you wanted to? Joshua,” he says seriously, “you could destroy me, destroy my family’s image, and probably make yourself extremely rich in the process. All it would take would be for you to sell this story to the highest bidder.”

“I’m not - Ale, I won’t,” Josh says quickly. “I didn’t mean what I said earlier. I’m not interested in screwing you over, I swear. I was just stressed out and angry.”

“I know, that’s my point,” Ale informs him. His mouth twists into an approximation of a smile, but his eyes are sad. “What I’m getting at is that you shouldn’t talk about yourself that way. You’re obviously a far better man than you give yourself credit for.”

“And if you don’t believe me, then you should ask Jack here.” Pulling his fingers away from Josh’s jaw, he holds them out for Jack to sniff, not looking even a little afraid of the massive animal. “I bet he has only good things to say about you.”

“He ain’t got a choice,” Josh mumbles, pretty sure his face is heating. “I’m the one who feeds him.”

Still holding his hand out to Jack, Ale looks pleased when the dog gives his fingers a tentative lick. Then he glances at Josh again. “You didn’t have to keep him after you saved him, but you did, and you’re basically doing the same thing for me. Don’t lie.”

“Christ,” Josh mutters, kicking at the floor with one foot. He’s definitely blushing now. “Would you please go be charming somewhere else? I think I’ve had all I can handle for one night.”

“Of course,” Ale says, and then because he’s a bastard, he leans forward and brushes a kiss to Josh’s cheek. “I’ll see you later, and, again, thank you for what you’re doing. I’ll find a way to make it up to you somehow.” 

“It’s as much for my benefit as it is yours,” Josh protests weakly. “I don’t want to deal with the headache of the real story getting out any more than you.”

Ale gives him a fleeting look that says he doesn’t believe him, and then he’s gone, stomping down the stairs and exiting out onto the street just the way his men had previously. 

Josh watches him walk to the car the bodyguard is now leaning up against, but ducks away from the front window when he sees the man start to turn. He glances back at the table where Goodnight’s folders are still spread all over the place, and decides he’s not dealing with that any further tonight. 

“You hungry?” He asks Jack, grinning when the dog’s ears immediately perk up in response. “Awesome, let’s get ourselves taken care of, and after that maybe get the fuck out of here for a walk.”

Jack’s tail begins wagging furiously at the mention of his favourite ‘w’ word, so Josh resolves to go about fulfilling his promise. He’ll worry about everything else later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, guys I’m sorry this chapter is so much talking and not very much action. I promise the next one will see us get into the more fun stuff, such as ACTUAL fake dating, Red meets the media, and Emma introduces Josh to the concept of PowerPoint slides :D
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, and comments are love!


	3. Chapter 3

In the end, they decide to spin a story Josh can live with. It’s a bit more of a sob fest than he’d care for since the whole being raised by a deceased single mother and having to pull himself up by his bootstraps to go from being a kid from the wrong side of the tracks to a guy who got it together enough to go to school and open his own business gets played up way more than he’d like, but overall he supposes it could be worse.

“Really?” Red asks when Josh voices this thought aloud. He’s sitting on the kitchen counter, paging through one of the folders Josh has been given to study to get the story straight. “Because if I was you, I’d be pissed. This reads like a Lifetime movie where the foreign prince has swooped in to save you from yourself.”

“Let me see that.” Leaning over to snatch the folder out of Red’s hands, Emma cracks it open, and begins reading the first page. “You do realize they’re trying to make you out to be a victim of circumstance, right? Christ, and I thought my own was bad.”

As the only two of his people in the know, Red and Emma have both been given their own dossiers. Red’s is pretty basic since all he needs to do is know what facts about Josh’s history he can and can’t talk about, but Emma’s got a direct role in the lie Ale’s people have woven, so hers is much more detailed. She’s supposedly introduced them through work colleagues.

“I still can’t believe we’re going along with this,” she grunts now. “It’s such a breach of ethics.”

“It would only be a breach of ethics if we were doing this as your clients,” Red reminds her. “Or do you want this whole mess getting out? Never mind about Josh’s life being ruined, they’d come to us for the details too. We’d never be left alone.”

“I’m touched by your concern,” Josh says dryly. He’s seated at the table with his feet kicked up on a second chair, sipping at a beer while there’s no PR reps around to tell him not to. “Also, Goodnight thinks they still will track you guys down. That’s what all the prep is for.”

“Wonderful,” Red grunts. He knocks back a swig of his own beer, looking put out. “You can’t ever do anything by half, can you? You were supposed to go on vacation to relax, not come back with a whole new set of problems.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Josh protests for what feels like the thousandth time. “We were in a bar, he was hot, things happened!”

Red gives him a look that’s rife with disproval, and next to him Emma pulls a tablet out of her oversized purse. Since he now associates the damned things with Goodnight, Josh is less than pleased.

“I’ve done some research,” Emma says when he asks her what it’s for. “It’s been made pretty clear to me that neither of you know what we’re dealing with here, and I don’t trust that Robicheaux character and his minions not to gloss over pertinent details. As such, I come bearing gifts.”

Red leans around to look over her shoulder. “Is that a PowerPoint presentation?” He asks, sounding bemused. “Are we back in grade school?”

“Do I have a wall projector?” Emma snorts. “No, no I do not. I do, however, have a whole bunch of information that I think is worth considering.”

“You made your interns sift through a fuckton of media publications, didn’t you?” Red tries. “That’s such an abuse of power.”

“Not if they’re getting paid, it isn’t,” Emma sniffs. “Now, shut up and look at what I found. Unlike you two, I was already able to pick his royal highness out of a crowd, but I didn’t know much more than that, so I did some digging.”

“You mean the interns did some digging,” Josh interrupts.

“Poor Teddy,” Red adds solemnly, referring to Emma’s main assistant.

“Shut up the pair of you!” Emma snaps. “Do you want my help or not?”

Josh raises his hands in surrender, and Red shrugs like he doesn’t care one way or another.

“Thank you,” Emma grunts. Then she calls up a photo of Ale looking regal in what Josh figures is some kind of dress uniform. It’s a style that really works for him. “Our key player, Prince Alejandro Rafael Luis Vasquez.”

“I know his name, thanks,” Josh drawls. “It’s on the marriage license and everything.”

Emma shoots him an icy glare. “Do you know the names of his parents? How about his sisters? Brother-in-law? Do you know anything about him aside from his title and what his people have told you?”

Josh shrugs, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “There have been hints,” he says slowly. “Things nobody’s outright said, but that have been heavily implied.”

“Would that be the whole party prince thing?” Emma asks, rolling her eyes when Josh blinks at her. “He’s the Queen’s third child,” she explains. “His older sisters, Francesca and Carmen, are the typical heir and the spare. They’re needed.”

“And what, he isn’t?” Josh asks, more offended than he might have expected. “What kind of crap is that?”

“I didn’t say he isn’t needed,” Emma replies, visibly searching for the words to frame what she’s trying to say. “It seems more like they don’t know what to do with him. The sisters have actual roles to fill, but he just has to toe the party line. Or the family line, I suppose.”

“And does he?” Red asks.

“Not from what I can see.” Emma looks down at her tablet, and swipes to a screen that looks like it contains a number of newspaper headlines, most of them negative. “Going by what’s been written about him, he seems to have embraced the whole party prince thing pretty heavily.”

“Seriously,” she continues on, “we’ve got incidents of public intoxication, articles that note him being late or not showing up at all for public events, a whole bunch of inferences about his dating habits, and even something that may or not involve him swimming in a fountain during a Christmas party. Altogether, it doesn’t look so great.”

“That’s just reporters wanting a good story though,” Josh points out, unconvinced. In his and Ale’s admittedly brief acquaintance, the prince has been nothing but appropriately behaved; minus the whole drunken marriage thing. “I’m sure it’s over exaggerated.”

“Of course it is,” Emma agrees, giving him a look that basically screams ‘no shit’, “but there’s likely at least some basis in reality for it. Plus, it doesn’t change the fact that this is the public view of him. From what I can see, the general feeling is that he’s attractive, friendly, and wouldn’t recognize responsibility if it bit him on the ass. People don’t dislike him per se, they just think he’s pretty and useless.”

“Hey,” Josh protests, but Emma merely shrugs.

“It is what it is,” she says. “Christ, do you realize he wasn’t even supposed to be in Vegas that night?” At Josh’s hesitant headshake, she nods. “His mother sent him to dedicate some hospital or something elsewhere in the state. He took off as soon as it was done, skipping out on a formal gala in the process, and then wound up getting drunk in a casino with you. Not exactly his finest hour, even with the story that’s been spun.”

“So what?” Josh snaps. “It wasn’t exactly my smartest move, either. Don’t go blaming just him when we both should have known better.”

Looking a little taken aback, Emma waits a moment before giving him a narrow eyed stare. “Believe me when I say I haven’t forgotten your role in this mess. All I’m doing is trying to fill in some blanks that may have been left out. He’s a fuck up, Josh. At least as far as the media consensus is concerned.”

“Is that really such a bad thing?” Red asks, while Josh is still considering and discarding several responses. He shrugs when they both turn to look at him. “Chances are good it’ll make his interest in Josh a more believable sell.”

“Thanks a lot,” Josh grumbles.

Red gives him a shit eating grin. “The truth hurts. No pinching,” he adds when Josh tries to shove him off the countertop. “I will hit back.”

Emma sighs and shuts down her tablet. “I don’t know why I even bother,” she grunts. “This is going to end so badly.”

*****

Despite Emma’s misgivings, Josh resolves to put her warnings out of his head, and go about his business like he’d previously intended. People can do what they want, so long as they don’t directly interfere in Josh’s own life.

He supposes he should have known it wouldn’t be that simple, but he’s still surprised when he opens up the bay doors in the garage one morning, and finds a veritable army of reporters clustered outside waiting for him.

“Fucking Christ,” he snarls, which is probably a sound bite someone will berate him about later. Blinking rapidly in the face of all the flashbulbs going off in the dim morning light, he slams his hand down on the button to release the doors, backing away out of sight as they swing down.

“Josh?” Red calls from somewhere in the interior of the shop. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a whole bunch of people outside with cameras,” Josh snarls, still off kilter from the surprise. “Like, a small army’s worth.”

“Shit,” Red says succinctly. Emerging from around a truck that had been stopped mid-job the day before, he crosses to the door they use when the bays aren’t open, and peers carefully out the smudged window near its top. “There’s got to be a couple dozen people out front, maybe more going around the back for all I can tell.”

Josh swears again, viciously. “What do we do about ‘em?”

Red turns to give him a long look. “You’re asking me?” He says, cocking one eyebrow knowingly. “I think this is something your husband’s people need to deal with.”

“Don’t call him that,” Josh hisses. “Someone might hear you.”

Red rolls his eyes. “Yeah,” he says dryly, “because that’s the biggest problem with the term. Whatever. You need to phone him and figure out some help. We can’t work like this.”

“We could keep the bay doors down,” Josh suggests. “Only open ‘em up when we’re moving a ride in or out.”

“And die of heat exhaustion after a couple hours of that,” Red points out, glowering at the currently closed doors. “That won’t work.”

Josh winces. “Sorry,” he says contritely, rubbing the back of his neck one handed. “I guess I knew it would be like this, but I didn’t really know.”

“We’ve got a business to run, Josh,” Red says tiredly. “We can’t afford to close up shop just because a bunch of reporters have moved in next door. Call that Goodnight guy, and ask him what he wants us to do.”

“Yeah,” Josh sighs, forced to give in to the inevitable. “I’ll duck into the office and give him a ring. You wait here.”

Turning around, he heads towards the back of the shop and the glorified broom closet they use as an office space. He hears the bay doors open up again as he moves, and allows that to spur him on to the safety of a closed room. Then, once he’s inside, he pulls out his phone and dials a number he’s become all too familiar with in recent memory.

“What?” Goodnight asks without preamble. Josh is a little surprised to hear him sound so alert this early in the morning - he and Red are typically in the shop by six a.m., and it’s only a bit past that by now - but it’s possible the man never sleeps.

Sighing, Josh decides to just bite the bullet and explain his problem. “There’s a mob of reporters outside my garage. What do I do about it?”

“Well, I would say to simply close the garage,” Goodnight drawls, “but since you made it clear that wasn’t an option, I’m afraid you’re just going to have to go about your business. Don’t engage with them, and you’ll be as fine as possible.”

Josh hisses through his teeth. “There’s a mob of reporters outside my garage,” he repeats, speaking slowly in case that might help it sink in. “In our brief acquaintance, how well do you expect me to react when the first one gets too close? Or Red for that matter?”

Several thoughtful seconds of silence pass on the other end of the line before Goodnight speaks again. “I see your point,” he acknowledges. “Well, you’re getting security anyway, I suppose I could send him over, and that might help. In the meantime, I’d consider investing in some no trespassing signs. I know you run a public business, but I don’t imagine the customers are allowed in the garage itself.”

“No,” Josh admits, wishing he’d thought of that sooner. “We have a reception area, and the cars get picked up and dropped off out front.”

“There you go then,” Goodnight says, pleased. “It won’t stop people from towing the line and taking pictures as close as they can get, but it should keep them out of your direct personal space.”

“Until I try to leave the property,” Josh grumbles, but Goodnight’s apparently done humouring him.

“Someone from our camp will be there as soon as possible,” he says brightly. “So sit tight, and do me a favour and behave yourself.”

“You behave yourself,” Josh snaps, but he’s talking to dead air - which, fair enough, he supposes. As comebacks go it certainly wasn’t his finest.

Groaning tiredly, Josh stuffs his phone into the secure pocket of his coveralls, and trudges back to the front of the bay. “They’re gonna send someone to keep an eye on things,” he says as he approaches, them he stops when he notices the area is eerily silent.

He rounds a corner and sidles up to Red, who’s standing in the open bay with his arms crossed over his chest, staring impassively out at the crowd. Every single reporter is staring back, but not one of them is moving, and several have gone pale. “What happened?”

“Nothing your boy’s people can complain about,” Red replies, although there’s a certain set to his chin that makes Josh question the veracity of that statement. “How did your call go?”

“Fine,” Josh says, still eyeing the crowd dubiously. “Robicheaux’s sending security to keep an eye on things. Why aren’t any of them moving?”

“No idea,” Red says evasively, “and I’m sure it won’t last.”

As if he’s somehow triggered something, two of the reporters turn to each other, and begin speaking in hushed tones, while several others start quietly murmuring into cellphones and audio recorders. Collectively, they look like they’re getting ready to pounce.

Josh takes one look at this, and decides he’s not putting up with it. Maybe he can’t send them away entirely, but he can certainly make them nervous. “I’m getting Jack,” he says.

Red’s eyebrows go up at this declaration, but Josh ignores him. Typically Jack’s not allowed in the shop, mainly because he scares the customers. Today, however, Josh is counting on exactly that.

“You can’t sic him on them,” Red says flatly. “Much as we might enjoy it, that PR guy will ring your neck if you do.”

“I’m not siccing him on anyone,” Josh calls over his shoulder. “I’m just gonna bring him down to hang out. We’ll see what everyone has to say about that.”

Ironically, no one turns out to have anything to say. They do, however, take a collective step back when Jack emerges out of the garage and into their field of vision.

“Nice,” Red says, snickering. “Good idea.”

“Thanks,” Josh says, giving the gathered reporters a nod and a sunny smile, while Red actually has the audacity to wave. “Think it’ll get rid of them?” He asks out of the corner of his mouth.

“No,” Red replies, “but I think it’ll keep them back far enough that we can work. You might want to consider what you can do from inside your office, though. I can stay out here.”

Josh hesitates, but if there’s anyone who can handle a batch of media hounds while they wait for the arrival of the security team, it’s Red. He’ll probably just continue to give them disdainful looks and go about his business.

“Okay,” he says finally. “Don’t let Jack eat anybody.”

“No promises.”

He’s been sitting in the office for about half an hour, catching up on paperwork, when there’s knock on the door and Billy walks in. Blinking, he gives the bodyguard a confused look. “I could’ve sworn I locked that.”

Billy gives him a flat stare. “Maybe you did,” he says critically, before straightening to his full height. “My husband says the media is invading.”

Josh blinks several more times. “Husband?” He asks, confused and intrigued by turns. “You have a husband?” Somebody was brave enough to marry you, he adds in his head.

“Yes,” Billy says simply. “Goody.”

Josh very nearly chokes on his own spit. “Oh,” he stutters, heroically managing not to ask how that courtship had come about. “I didn’t realize, and, uh, yes, the media. We have some. Outside, they’re outside.”

“Better than them being inside,” Billy grunts. “Have they tried to sneak in yet?”

“I don’t think so?” Josh tries. “Mostly they’re just standing around taking pictures.”

“They do that,” Billy agrees. “Usually if you pretend they’re not there and keep acting normal they get bored and go away. Though that may take a while in your case. You’re still a novelty to them.”

“Wonderful,” Josh sighs. “That’s just fuckin’ great, really. There’s no way you can scare them off?”

Billy shrugs. “I can keep them back, maybe even keep them from talking to you, but no way are they going to leave this early in the game.”

“Wish I could say I was surprised,” Josh tells him. “Alright,” he adds, sitting back in his chair and gesturing towards the door. “I guess just do your thing and let me know if there’s anything you need from me.”

“Unless you’re capable of building a time machine, setting it for three weeks ago, and then not marrying our prince and throwing a massive wrench in my life plans, there isn’t.” Having said his piece, Billy then turns on one heel and marches out the way he came.

Trying not to be offended, Josh sighs and goes back to his paperwork.

*****

Ale’s supposed to be visiting his place, or at least appearing to do so, later that evening, but Josh requests a change in plans. After a day spent holed up in his office, his place is starting to feel like a cage, and he wants a change of scenery. As such, he asks if Billy can take him over to the condo instead.

“Oh, I suppose,” Goodnight says, sounding like he’s only half listening when Josh calls him a second time later that day. “If nothing else, it’ll make for far easier security arrangements since moving his highness is a more intricate affair.”

“Nice to know where I rank on your priority list,” Josh drawls. It’s all for show, of course. In reality he’s not offended at all. “So you’re okay with a change in plans, and Ale is too?”

Goodnight sniffs. “I just said I’m fine with it, and Alejandro is very busy keeping every toe in line lest his mother get wind of something she shouldn’t. He’ll stay put if he’s told.”

Josh thinks about pointing out how that doesn’t technically answer his question, but quickly decides against it. It’s not his place to say anything, and he’ll admit he’s selfish enough to rather he be the one with more freedom available.

“Okay,” he says after realizing he’s let the silence go on for a bit too long. “I guess I’ll just tell Billy?”

“I’ll tell him,” Goodnight replies. “Odds are decent he won’t believe it if it comes out of your mouth. Make sure you’re ready to go whenever he is, and that’ll be that.”

He hangs up shortly after this, leaving Josh wondering what he’s supposed to do to get ready. They’re not going anywhere beyond the walls of the condo, and he’d changed from his overalls to jeans and a t-shirt after closing up the garage. What more does he need to do?

Deciding that the answer to that question is ‘nothing’, he wanders out of the kitchen in search of his boots. Jack perks his head up at his appearance, thumping his tail tentatively in obvious hope that he be allowed to come wherever his owner is going.

“Sorry, buddy,” Josh says when he sees this. “You’ve been out already, and I can’t take you with me to a royal residence. Pretty sure the staff would have a fit.”

Making a defeated sound, Jack flops back down onto the floor, giving Josh his best puppy dog eyes (or eye, in his case) when he shows no sign of relenting.

“Yeah, no,” Josh says, refusing to be swayed. “You had your fun today anyway. When was the last time you were allowed in the garage during work hours?”

Being that he’s a dog, Jack doesn’t deign to answer. Despite this, Josh chooses to see his silence as acknowledgement that he’d enjoyed his time at work today. Which, he better have, since Josh has every intention of bringing him down again tomorrow.

Snorting softly to himself, Josh tugs his boots on one after the other, and then goes in search of his coat. He’s just found it, along with his wallet and his keys, when the intercom buzzes. 

“Down in a sec,” he says, slapping the button and quickly releasing it as he stuffs his arm into the sleeve of his coat. Tugging it into place, he exits the apartment, and thumps down the steps.

Where Billy is waiting for him with an expression that is somehow impassive and displeased at the same time.

“What?” Josh asks, wondering how he’s managed to piss the man off in such a short time span. “Why’re you looking at me like that?”

“You need to check and see who it is before you come down,” he’s informed, and the words ‘you idiot’ are heavily implied at the end of the sentence. “I could have been anybody.”

It’s on the tip of Josh’s tongue to snap that Billy isn’t the boss of him, but a) in a sense right now he is, and b) he’s pretty sure the man could kill him with his pinky, and that’s just not how he wants to die. Shrugging, he doesn’t apologize, but nor does he press the matter.

Seemingly okay with this, Billy nods, and proceeds to lead him towards a nondescript black car. “In you go.”

Chafing somewhat at the feeling that he needs a babysitter, Josh nevertheless does as he’s told. Sliding into the backseat, he snaps his seatbelt shut, and leans back with a sigh.

“Do you figure anyone’s following us?” He asks as they pull away from the curb.

Billy glances at him in the rear view mirror, his dark eyes unreadable as he carefully merges into ongoing traffic. Even at night, the city never fully slows down. “At least some of them are bound to,” he says finally. “Every publication in the country is desperate for new shots of you and his highness interacting. All they have right now are the photos from Vegas, and Goody’s press release.”

“Wonderful,” Josh grunts. “Just what I always fucking wanted.”

“Associating with royalty comes with a price,” Billy informs him, before promptly lapsing into silence and staying that way for the rest of the drive.

Shockingly, the condo building is no different than it was the last time Josh saw it. They pull into the underground parking, where he’s told to wait while Billy assesses the area for any potential threats. After that they enter the private elevator to take them to the penthouse, where they’re greeted by Sam.

“Evening, gentlemen,” the head of security says, nodding at each of them in turn. “How was the ride over?”

“Fine,” Josh says.

Beside him, Billy shrugs. “Uneventful. Are we going in, or staying out?”

Sam’s mouth twitches in a way Josh can’t parse. “Mr. Faraday is going in,” he says. “You and I are staying out by royal decree. His highness is ... in a mood.”

Billy mutters something too low for Josh to catch, and Sam definitely makes a face as he steps back to let him pass. “Well, yes,” he mutters unhelpfully, “but what else did you expect?”

Deciding to ignore them, Josh pushes the door of the condo open. It looks exactly the same as it had the last time he was here, meaning it feels like something out of a catalogue, as opposed to somewhere a person actually lives.

There’s no sign of its current resident near the front entrance, so Josh gives in and calls out. “Ale? You around? I didn’t get dragged all the way out here to sit around by myself.”

A few muffled noises emit from further inside the condo, so Josh kicks off his shoes and heads for them. He’s just hit the main living space when Ale emerges from one of two rooms off to the right, looking disgruntled.

“There you are,” Josh says upon spotting him. Remembering Sam’s words about the prince being in something of a snit, he aims for a more playful tone. “You trying to hide on me now?”

Ale scowls. “I have been hiding since I got to this city,” he doesn’t quite snap. “They won’t let me out because they’re worried our relatively small security detail won’t be enough to handle all the press. Mainly since they’ve split forces to watch you too.”

“Oh,” Josh says slowly. “How long have you been stuck here?”

“Since the last time we saw each other,” is the reply. “That was the one and only day I’ve been allowed to leave the condo since we flew in from Vegas.”

Josh winces. If his math is right that means Ale’s been stuck in the condo for almost three weeks, minus one brief interlude that had probably ended with him getting yelled at by some official or other. No wonder he looks like he’s fraying around the edges.

“I’m sure they’ll arrange something soon?” He tries weakly, but that just makes Ale’s scowl deepen.

“They were going to tonight,” he says curtly, “but then you told Goody you wanted to come here instead, and he agreed. As usual, no one bothered to ask me what I wanted.”

“For the record,” he adds forcefully, “I was looking forward to a little freedom. Even it was just your tacky apartment.”

“Watch it, your majesty,” Josh snaps, his shoulders tensing defensively. “A) That’s my fuckin’ home you’re talking about, and B) Nobody told me you didn’t want to switch locations. I didn’t know they were keeping you cooped up either. I asked to switch because I couldn’t set foot in my garage today without being invaded by camera wielding assholes, which I’ll remind you is your fault. If you want to blame someone for your problems, find somebody else. I don’t have to stay here if I don’t want to.”

Having said his piece, he crosses his arms over his chest, and glares over at Ale. He’s not actually sure he’s allowed to go home so quickly after arriving - that probably won’t look good in the tabloids, after all - but he’ll be damned if he’s going to sit here and be chewed out for something he didn’t know was an issue.

“Well?” He asks when the silence has dragged on for an uncomfortable length of time. “What’s it going to be? Do you wanna keep bitching at me, or can we maybe act like civilized people?”

“Nothing about this is civilized,” Ale grumbles, but his voice has lost some of its edge, and Josh finds his own tension loosening in response. “I’m sorry, Joshua. I didn’t mean to snap.”

“S’okay,” Josh replies quickly, figuring he may as well throw him a bone. Three weeks is an awful long time to be trapped inside, and he can’t really blame Ale for lashing out. “Maybe we can talk to Goodnight about that schedule he’s come up with, have you out and about sooner rather than later.”

“Pfft,” Ale groans and drops onto the expensive looking living room couch with a heavy sigh. “Royal courtships aren’t supposed to go public for months and months after they start. He wants us to play like we got caught due to a slip up, but are otherwise sticking to that pattern. It’ll be back and forth between here and your place forever.”

“I can’t help but think you’re exaggerating a little there,” Josh says. Settling down next to Ale on the couch, he nudges him with a shoulder. “S’not all bad, yeah? At least you’ve got me for company tonight.”

Ale rolls his eyes, but there’s the faint hint of a grin lurking at the corner of his mouth. “I suppose it’s a step up from Sam and all his looks of stern disappointment. Apparently he doesn’t think much of your city.”

“Ouch,” Josh replies. “Sam doesn’t like my city, you don’t like my home - you people are hard to impress, aren’t you?”

Now Ale gives him a contrite look before glancing awkwardly down at his hands. “I’m sorry, guero,” he mumbles, and the back of his neck is visibly flushing. “I should not have said that about your apartment. It’s very nice.”

“It’s hideous,” Josh declares, “but it’s mine, and I’ll thank you to remember that. No harm done, though,” he adds, giving Ale a second bump. “It’s not like you insulted Jack or anything really bad.”

“I like Jack,” Ale says instantly, looking up again. “He’s a good dog.”

“I can think of multiple people who would disagree with you,” Josh informs him, “but I’ll take you at your word. I will also,” he says, feeling the sudden need to be clear, “stick to the schedule unless I talk to you about it first. I won’t go through Goodnight again.”

Ale’s grateful smile is the kind of thing that would probably have most people swooning, and also no doubt send reporters into fits. Josh has to sternly tell himself not to do either of the above. “Thank you.”

“S’all good,” Josh says, waving a hand airily. Sitting back against the couch cushions, he very deliberately kicks his feet up on the expensive looking coffee table, wanting to at least seem nonchalant. “So, now what?”

Ale shrugs. Leaning back as well, he grabs for a tv remote. “Movie?” He suggests.

Snorting, Josh gives in to the inevitable. “Sure, why not?”

*****

True to his word, Josh doesn’t mess with the schedule again, and they spend the next several weeks flipping back and forth between each other’s places without doing anything more public. Before they know it, they’re two months into their year long stint, and it feels like hardly any time at all has passed.

Then Ale changes the game plan without warning.

“We need to get out.”

“Sorry?” Forcing himself away from the expense forms he’s working on for the shop, Josh looks over at where Ale’s sprawled across his living room couch. They’re at his place tonight, but he notes the prince seems kind of twitchy; not unlike the way he had after being confined too long at the condo. It’s a look that sets Josh’s stomach twisting. “What was that?”

“I said we need to get out,” Ale repeats, “or should, rather. The whole point of this plan was to give the media something to distract them with. The mystery surrounding your identity was enough at first, but it’s been two months - they’re going to start wanting more.”

Josh scowls down at his paperwork. “Goodnight hasn’t given us the go ahead yet,” he mutters, hoping that will be enough to cut Ale off at the start. “Me, I’m perfectly content to hide away until this entire mess passes. The less people stick their noses into my business, the better.”

“People are already sticking their noses into your business,” Ale points out helpfully. “Or have you forgotten all the mini-bios that have been cropping up where you’re concerned? Not to mention your ever-present visitors outside the shop.”

Josh feels his scowl deepen. “I’m trying to do just that,” he says through suddenly gritted teeth, “but you bringing it up sure as shit ain’t helping.”

Ale raises his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m sorry, Joshua,” he says contritely. “I didn’t mean to stress you out. It’s just, I have been talking to Goody, and he says that the reporters he’s heard from are getting antsy for more details, which means it’s only a matter of time before someone gets nasty. No matter how much everyone might wish otherwise.”

“Also,” he adds with a weak grin that Josh sternly tells himself not to find charming, “in the interest of being fully honest with you, I’m bored.”

Mentally congratulating himself for seeing this coming, it’s on the tip of Josh’s tongue to snap that keeping Ale entertained wasn’t part of their deal, but the words catch in his throat before he can get them out. Their deal, when you get down to it, is an arrangement that lets Josh continue living almost the exact life he’d had before Las Vegas. The same can’t be said for Ale, who’s stuck in a city not his own, with only his security detail as familiar faces. 

Josh still gets to get up and go to work at his business every day. He still gets to see his friends, play with his dog; that kind of thing. True, he’s got reporters hiding in his bushes some days, but Ale’s either in the condo, or he’s in Josh’s home. He doesn’t have anything else to do, and he’s been living this way for close to two months.

Considering yet again how unfair that it is, Josh straightens up in his seat. “What did you have in mind?”

Ale blinks, his expression making it obvious that he hadn’t expected Josh to agree that easily. “I - well - I don’t know,” he admits sheepishly. Casting his gaze around the living room, he pauses when he looks at the spot below the main window. “We could take Jack for a walk?”

Upon hearing his name combined with the fabled w word, Jack’s ears perk up where he’s lying in his doggy bed with his head pillowed on his front paws. He wags his tail tentatively, locking eyes with Josh as if he’s seeking confirmation that a trip outdoors is imminent.

Josh, who usually waits until after Ale’s left for the night to take Jack out to do his business, raises an eyebrow. “That’s it?” He asks. “Of all the things you could ask to do, that’s what you’re going with?”

His cheeks flushing slightly, Ale rubs the back of his neck with one hand. “I wasn’t expecting you to say yes,” he admits. “Although, I see nothing wrong with a nice evening stroll, and anywhere more public is bound to get us swarmed.”

Josh tries not to shudder at that thought. He knows they’re going to have to face that at some point, if for no other reason than they’ve already been penciled in for a few specific public events over the coming months, but he’d rather avoid it as long as possible. In the grand scheme of things, a walk with his dog is probably small potatoes.

“Okay,” he says finally. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Ale’s grateful smile, combined with Jack’s excited snuffling is enough to convince him he’s making the right call. Standing up out of his chair, he tells himself his paperwork can wait a while longer, and goes to get the leash from it’s hook by the door.

Jack waits with limited patience for them to get ready to go, winding between their feet as they pull on shoes and coats, and scrabbling excitedly at the door when Josh clips the leash to his collar, while Ale texts Sam to give him a heads up.

Used to the way the big dog pulls, Josh allows himself to be dragged down the stairs with Ale following in his wake. The night air is still warm when they get outside, and he heads for his and Jack’s normal route without thinking twice.

As Ale falls into step beside him, he can’t help but glance around to see if anyone is watching them. Nothing sticks out particularly obviously, but he’ll be the first to admit he doesn’t really know what to look for. “You figure there’s anybody there?”

“Oh, most likely,” Ale says, sounding completely at ease with the idea of people spying on his personal life. Although, given the type of life he leads, Josh supposes that makes sense. “Sometimes not being able to see them is the clearest indication that they’re there.”

“That’s ...” trailing off in a rare loss for words, Josh shakes his head. “I don’t know how you live this way.”

Ale grins in the faint light, and bumps their shoulders together unexpectedly. “I was born living this way,” he points out. “I think it’s easy to get used to something when it’s all you’ve ever known.”

“No, it’s true,” he continues when Josh makes a skeptical noise. “Take you, for example. This is the area you grew up in, right? Right,” he says when Josh nods, “so you know it like the back of your hand. It’s what you’re used to, and you know what to expect from it. The media for me is no different. I know what to expect from it, even if I don’t always like the result.”

“Which is why we’re out here right now,” he points out. “I know people will eat up the idea of us going for a moonlit stroll as a way of easing you into public life, and I guarantee you that’s exactly how Goody will spin this.”

Josh takes a moment to consider what he’s saying. “I guess there are worse things,” he decides finally. “Though I gotta admit I find it hard to wrap my head around the idea of people being excited by us going for a walk.”

“Media culture is indeed a strange thing,” Ale agrees, “but forget about all that.” He gestures expansively around him, taking in the neighbourhood as he does so. “Now’s your chance to show me where you come from. I want a tour.”

Unable to help himself, Josh shakes his head. “God, you are so fucking weird,” he says, but even he can tell he sounds fond when he does so. “Alright, follow me.”

They wander down streets Josh has been familiar with since childhood, talking at some points, but just moving quietly during others. It’s ... nice, Josh decides finally. Ale’s decent company when you get down to it, and at the moment he’s especially easy to be around.

“What’s that?”

Momentarily caught up in dragging Jack away from a suspicious pile of garbage bags, Josh doesn’t answer right away. He takes the time required to make sure his dog isn’t about to chow down on something rotten or poisonous, and only then looks up to see what Ale’s pointing at.

“Oh,” he says softly, suddenly less interested in this little walk of theirs. “It used to be a community centre,” he says, gazing at the dilapidated building while trying not to give anything away in his voice. “It’s been closed down for years now.”

“How come?” Ale asks, cocking his head to the side in what Josh has no doubt is genuine interest. “A neighbourhood like this could probably use such a thing, I would think.”

“Yeah,” Josh agrees roughly. “It was pretty great, and important to a lot of folks, especially local kids. They had a whole bunch of programs for at risk youth. Trying to keep them on the right path and all that stuff.”

Ale frowns like something’s bothering him. “Then why close it? It definitely sounds like a worthwhile enterprise.”

Josh shrugs. “The woman who ran it died,” he says hollowly. “She had two college age kids who she’d gone to bring home for the holidays. There was an accident. None of them made it.”

“That’s terrible,” Ale says. “And no one stepped up to fill her shoes?”

“You couldn’t just replace Maya,” Josh says, a little more harshly than he intends. “She kept the place going out of her own pocket more often than not. Through that and whatever fundraising she could get help with. I mean, technically she co-owned it with her husband, but he was such a mess after the accident, he couldn’t even take care of himself.”

“And nobody else picked up the slack?”

“No,” Josh grunts, still angry about it four years later. “Red and I thought about seeing if there was anything we could do, but we’d just opened up the garage and could barely keep ourselves going.”

“You and Red - you were one of the children who came here,” Ale says, realization sinking in at last. “Red too?”

“Red and I met here,” Josh replies. “We were a couple of poor kids whose parents didn’t want us getting into whatever trouble the streets might provide. My record would probably be a whole lot worse if I hadn’t spent a huge chunk of my early years in that building.”

“Oh,” giving the remains of the center a more serious look, Ale pats Josh’s arm as they start moving again. “I’m sorry,” he says. Then he has the nerve to actually loop their arms together, and surprisingly Josh doesn’t think it’s a show for any cameras that might be around. “I’m sure it meant a lot to you.”

“Yeah, well.” Not trusting his voice, Josh lets the fact that he doesn’t shrug free speak for him. “It meant a lot to plenty of people.”

Ale makes a thoughtful noise, one Josh isn’t sure if he should be concerned about or not. Deciding he doesn’t want to get into it, he tugs Jack along, safe in the knowledge that Ale will follow where they go.

*****

True to Ale’s prediction, a handful of photos of them out walking have circulated by morning, and pieces are still being run on them more than a week later. Plenty of innuendo crops up in the articles, but on the whole there’s nothing Josh can’t live with.

They get some mild scolding for going my out in public without a plan or permission from Ale’s keepers, but nothing that can be construed as a true dressing down. Goodnight, it turns out, is actually pleased by the result.

“I don’t know which of you came up with the idea, but whoever it was should be commended,” he enthuses, paging happily through a bunch of online publications. He’s so caught up in his tablet that he misses the way Josh rolls his eyes, as well as Ale’s resulting snicker. “Even I couldn’t have predicted just how well a little tease would go over.”

“It was a walk,” Josh grunts, still unable to believe how easily something so simple can send so many people into a frenzy. “Fun fact, I take one pretty much every night.”

“Yes, but not with a prince at your side,” Ale says sunnily. He then narrowly dodges the couch pillow Josh lobs at his head. “Hey! Sam!”

“Please do not assault the royal bloodline,” Sam drawls from where he’s lurking in a doorway. Though, Josh can’t help but notice that he makes no move to come assist. “It’s technically treason.”

“Only if it’s done by one of his subjects,” Goodnight points out absently. He taps the tablet a number of times, his fingers dancing over the screen as he continues to scroll. “I think we should use this to start some serious public appearances.

Josh groans inwardly. He’s been expecting this declaration from the moment he’d heard that Goodnight wanted to meet with them, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. “Define public.”

Goodnight doesn’t even bother looking up. “Nothing huge,” he promises. “If we fired you right into typical royal events, people would get suspicious about how fast we were moving. That’s why we’ve been moving so slowly.” Finally, he raises his head, and Josh does not like the smirk gracing his features. “I mean something more like dating.”

“Dating?” Josh repeats, sounding skeptical even to his own ears.

“You know what dating is, guero,” Ale pipes up helpfully. “It’s that thing people do where they spend a lot of time together before they get married. We kind of skipped that step.”

“Oops,” Josh says less than helpfully, which earns him his first glare of the day from Goodnight. He’d known it was only a matter of time.

“Yes, oops,” the older man says. “I haven’t forgotten your little transgression, I assure you. However, we’ve managed the whole debacle well so far, and I’d like to keep doing that. What do couples do around here for fun?”

Josh blinks at him. As does Ale, and even Sam straightens out of his slouch slightly to do the same. “You’re asking me?” Josh asks when all eyes inevitably turn to him.

“You are the one who lives here,” Goodnight points out. He’s talking slowly, as if he’s not sure that Josh can keep up. “Therefore, you’re the one most likely to know the answer.”

Josh crosses his arms over his chest, and flashes one of his meaner smirks. “As you like to keep reminding me, I’m not exactly a paragon of virtue here. My dating skills are a little rusty.”

“Of course they are,” Goodnight starts to say, but Ale cuts in before things can escalate.

“Why don’t you ask your friend Emma for suggestions?” He says. “She’s married, so presumably she can think of a place or two. And Goody, you and I both know you can just look some things up online if you want to know what we’re getting into beforehand.”

Goodnight gives Ale a look like he’s ruining all his fun with this sudden onset of rationality, but he doesn’t press. “Fine,” he huffs, returning to his tablet yet again, “I suppose that’s a decent place to start.”

“Wonderful,” Ale says brightly. Then he turns and gives Josh a wide smile. “Let’s see what’s out there for you to woo me with.”

Josh throws another cushion at him.

*****

It turns out that fake dating Ale is an awful lot like real dating a regular person, only with more cameras involved. People definitely want to know about them, which Josh isn’t really a fan of, and going to a restaurant with an armed escort is a new experience he could do without, but when you get down to it, Ale himself is surprisingly fun.

“Of course I’m fun,” Ale says glibly one night when they’re eating out. They’ve booked a private room in a club with Sam and Billy stationed outside the doors, giving them space while they eat. “I’m rich and famous. What’s not fun about that?”

Josh considers the wall of electronic recording devices they’ll no doubt be walking into when they’re ready to leave. “I can think of one or two things,” he says thoughtfully as he chews a bite of his, admittedly delicious, meal. “Food’s good though.”

“Of course it is,” Ale replies, affronted. “I’m not taking you anywhere with a lacklustre menu. I’m not taking you anywhere with a lacklustre anything.”

“Please don’t say that where anybody with a mic might hear you,” Josh says, feeling pained. “If I see one more article implying I’m a gold digger, or worse, some rags to riches charity case with a tragic past, I may just punch someone.”

“So long as you do it in private, I don’t care.”

Josh snorts, but rather than point out how Ale not caring doesn’t mean other people won’t, he goes back to his meal.

Eating out quickly becomes one of their regular public pastimes. About once a week or so they grab a bite somewhere they can get people’s attention, often cozied up together for the cameras. A couple of places they frequent repeatedly, while others they only visit once in an attempt to keep things interesting.

Josh doesn’t mind this part, especially when the cost is always handled by the Royal purse, but he does occasionally have to ask Ale for a break from it. He can only handle so many outings in a row where people fling themselves into his personal space, and every now and again needs a respite. Luckily, after enough time has passed people are much less interested in him when Ale’s not around, so he can still usually go about his own business without too much interference.

On top of that Ale’s pretty keen on keeping things interesting. They wind up as guests at more than one movie premiere, which Josh has to admit is kind of cool, and California is admittedly rife with major sporting teams - all of which Ale seems inclined to humour Josh on if he so much as looks like he wants to go. Aside from one or two minor incidents, the prince is decent company.

And so it goes. They eat out, they walk Jack (Ale turns out to have meant it when he said he liked the dog; Josh is confused and pleased by turns), they make mild public appearances, they get along easily, and miraculously no one looks at their relationship deeply enough to find the truth.

All told, things are going well. Before they know it roughly six months have passed since the fateful morning in Vegas, and they’re halfway through the required time frame for a quiet divorce. Shockingly, Josh is starting to think things might turn out okay.

Then he’s informed he’s expected at the royal residence for Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was tragically forced to delete karaoke shenanigans from this chapter as they just wouldn’t fit. Alas and alack! Up next: Josh meets the royal family and experiences Emotions.


	4. Chapter 4

In the half a year he and Ale have been embracing the concept of fake it til you make it, Josh has not once laid eyes on a member of the prince’s family. He’s heard about them, of course (Ale talks about his sisters with considerable enthusiasm, and his parents with ... less), but that’s hardly the same thing. More importantly, meeting them all at once sounds like trial by fire.

“Please,” Ale scoffs when he voices this thought aloud a couple of days before they’re due to fly out. “I’m the royal disappointment here, not you. Why would they be mad at you?”

Josh frowns at him. Ale has a nasty habit of making comments like that in relation to his relationship with his relatives, his mother in particular, and Josh doesn’t like it. He also, however, isn’t going to open that can of worms.

Shrugging, he goes back to figuring out what he wants to bring for the trip. “I reckon if you’re the family disappointment, right now I’m the root cause thereof. How fancy is the shit you’re going to be dragging me to gonna be?”

Ale snorts, allowing the deflection. “There’s a royal gala every Christmas night. Not to sound like a condescending asshole, but nothing you own will be appropriate for it. We’re going to have to get you fitted for a tux.”

“Great,” Josh sighs. “Just great.”

They fly out not long after that, and even the experience of riding in a private plane again isn’t enough to calm Josh’s nerves. He’s more tempted than he’s ever been to fortify himself with a little liquid courage from the well stocked mini-bar, and it’s only the thought of how Queen Maria might react to his showing up drunk on her doorstep that stops him.

Josh isn’t even one hundred percent sure that queens have doorsteps, but he figures the palace must have a front entrance somewhere, which probably counts.

The royal family, he learns from Goodnight, has a specific residence that they use during the holiday season. He doesn’t have the nerve to ask how many residences they actually have, and nobody offers that information up. Although, he is told that the place they’re going is one of the smaller estates.

“This is small?” He asks when he gets his first good look at the structure as the car they’re in meanders along the twisting driveway. “Pretty sure you could fit my place in here a dozen times over. Including the garage.”

Ale gives him an awkward shrug. He tries to play it casual, but Josh knows him too well at this point for him to get away with it. “I guess it’s a matter of perspective.”

Josh snorts, and leans back in his seat. “Perspective. Right.” Trying not to appear as nervous as he is, he fiddles with the strap of the only one of his bags not sitting in the trunk. “That’s one way of putting it.”

Unexpectedly, Ale reaches out and covers Josh’s hand with his own, stilling his twitching fingers through gentle pressure. “It’s going to be fine, Joshua. No one here has any reason to be angry with you.”

Josh doesn’t miss the qualifier. “And what about with you?”

Ale gives him a smile that doesn’t at all reach his eyes. “Let me worry about that, okay?”

Josh opens his mouth to suggest that a united front might get them through this more easily, but the car slides to a stop in front of an entranceway before he can say so. The driver comes around to let them out, at which point he’s got no choice but to move.

“Someone will get the bags,” Ale murmurs when Josh automatically starts for the trunk. He curls a hand around Josh’s elbow to begin dragging him forward. “Come on, it’s this way.”

Josh doesn’t think he’s imagining Ale’s grip tightening as they step inside, but he pulls away before he can say anything, or even offer him a commiserating pat. With neither of them speaking, they walk down a long, polished corridor towards a set of high doors.

“It’s one of the sitting rooms,” Ale explains as he reaches for the nearest of the two door handles. “My sister told me everyone would be waiting here.”

Josh considers asking which sister, but decides it doesn’t really matter. Instead, he takes a fortifying breath and follows Ale into the room.

There are four people waiting inside. An older man who has to be Ale’s father, accompanied by a younger man and two women. Josh finds himself suddenly wishing he’d bothered to take Emma up on her offer of showing him everything she’d dug up on the family. He has no idea what to say to these people.

“Alejandro,” smiling faintly, the older man steps forward to envelope Ale in a hug. He says something low that Josh can’t quite catch, but it makes Ale laugh, so he supposes it’s fine. “How was the flight, mijo?”

Ale shrugs. “The same as always. No problems though, and we made good time.”

“I can see that,” the man replies. “I can also see that you didn’t come alone. This must be Mr. Faraday.”

That makes Ale laugh. “He doesn’t like formalities, papa. Josh or Joshua is fine.” He gestures for Josh to step forward. “Guero, this is my father, Luis.”

As far as Josh is concerned, kings and higher can call him whatever they damn well please, but he’s not about to contradict Ale in front of his relatives. He holds out a hand for the man to shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“Luis is fine,” the king laughs, instantly putting Josh in mind of his son with the way that he does so. The two men don’t look much alike, although they’re of equal height, but that smile is all Ale. “Especially given the circumstances.”

Josh flushes, drawing his hand back as soon as propriety allows. “Right,” he says awkwardly. “Uh, thanks.”

Clearly sensing Josh’s discomfort, Luis gestures towards the two women who are standing side by side. “I don’t believe you’ve met my daughters yet, either.”

“Um, no,” Josh agrees, though even if he’d never seen photos of them he’d know which was which. At nearly seven months pregnant, Francesca is easy to spot, which makes the other woman Carmen by default. “Nice to meet you ladies too.”

Ale’s sisters step forward as one to introduce themselves, and then instantly turn on their brother, who makes a resigned face as he hugs them both. The three siblings descend into a conversation Josh doesn’t have a hope of following, and he finds himself coming face to face with the room’s remaining occupant.

“Sandro,” he says without preamble. “Francesca’s husband.”

“Yeah, I - names,” Josh stumbles, cursing himself for sounding like an idiot. “Everyone’s names and things have been kind of beaten into my head before getting here. Pictures too.”

“Yes,” Sandro says, smiling wryly. “They do that.”

Josh distantly recalls being told that Sandro hails from a family of only minor nobility, making him an unusual choice for a royal spouse. Albeit, nowhere near as unusual a choice as Josh himself.

Then again, at least Sandro’d been picked deliberately.

Shaking his head to cut off that train of thought, it belatedly occurs to Josh that there’s one person missing. “Um,” he says, nodding towards Ale and his sisters. “Their mother’s not here?”

Luis shrugs from where he’s sidled over to them without Josh noticing. “My wife was called away to deal with a state issue. She’s in her study right now, but I doubt she’ll be long.” He shrugs. “Even she takes a break during Christmas.”

“Okay,” Josh says, unable to come up with anything better. He just hopes that’s the truth, and the queen isn’t avoiding them because of his presence. That would be ... bad.

Not wanting to dwell on that, however, he plasters a smile on his face, and nods when he’s asked about refreshments.

*****

Josh doubts he’ll ever know for sure if the queen avoided their first arrival deliberately, but upon coming face to face with her, he feels confident in assuming she doesn’t like him.

He, Ale, and the rest of Ale’s immediate family are still in the sitting room when a door opposite the one they’d previously come through opens. A slender, middle-aged woman enters, at which point all conversation slows to a crawl.

“Mama.” Scrambling to his feet, Ale gets out of the chair he’s been sitting in next to Josh, and crosses the room to give his mother a hug. “There you are.”

“Here I am,” she agrees, giving him a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. “Alejandro, you look well.”

It’s about as formal a greeting as a parent could give their child, and Josh doesn’t miss the way Ale flinches. It’s a minute, barely there thing that he covers up almost immediately, but it definitely happens.

Suddenly feeling a lot less nervous and a lot more annoyed, Josh fights down the urge to scowl when she turns to him. Her expression is pleasant enough, but he doesn’t think she’s very happy to see him either.

“Mr. Faraday,” she says simply. “We finally meet.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Josh replies equally coolly. “Thanks for having me.”

“Yes, well, under the circumstances we could hardly avoid it,” she replies. “And besides, it’s not as if we don’t have the room.”

“... right,” Josh says awkwardly, grateful when Luis then jumps in to save him.

“You two must be tired from such a long trip,” he cuts in smoothly. “I know you wanted to wait and say hello to Maria, but I’m sure you’d like a chance to freshen up a bit before supper. Joshua, we’ve put you in the suite right next to Alejandro’s. He can show you where it is.”

“Of course I can,” Ale says, and Josh doesn’t miss the relieved note in his voice. He is a bit surprised when Ale curls a hand around his wrist though. “Come on, guero. It’s this way.”

“We just got here, I mean your ma just did,” Josh says under his breath as they leave, hopefully speaking low enormously huh that no one else can hear him. “Don’t you want to stay and visit with her for a while?”

Ale doesn’t say anything until the door is safely closed behind them, and Josh finds it telling that he won’t meet his eyes once he finally speaks. “I know my mother,” he says simply. “Based on her greeting I could tell the conversation was only going to degenerate.”

He raises his head then, but his gaze is still ... off. “I don’t know if whatever she was dealing with before put her in a bad mood, or if it was just us being there, but ...” He shrugs. “It’s probably not worth it to find out.”

Against his better judgement, Josh loops his arm through Ale’s, mimicking a motion that the prince likes to use on him. “Sorry,” he says as they resume their walk down the plushly carpeted hallway. “I didn’t want you to have a shitty homecoming.”

Ale shrugs, the movement causing his arm to drag along Josh’s side. “It’s alright,” he says, clearly lying through his teeth. “At least nobody got into a shouting match.”

“Does that happen often?” Josh asks, concerned.

“Probably more than is appropriate,” Ale admits. Then he sighs. “Can we stop talking about this?” He asks. “It’s not really how I want to start off the holiday season.”

“Sure,” Josh replies easily, not wanting to cause additional stress. He searches his brain for a safer topic. “How old is this place?”

Ale laughs at his poor attempt at misdirection, but he also accepts the lifeline now that it’s been thrown. “Old,” he says, and then begins detailing the building’s history as he steers Josh in the direction of the apartment suites.

By the time they reach their destination, Josh has learned that this wing of the house contains rooms used by both Ale and his sisters, while the entirety of the opposite wing is set aside for the King and Queen. Trying not to be relieved that this means Maria and her palpable disproval will be sleeping leagues away, Josh instead focuses on the sheer magnitude of their location.

“This place is huge,” he declares, failing not to gawk when Ale pushes open a set of doors and tells him it’s where he’ll be staying. “You can’t be serious,” he says, glancing around the expensively decorated space. It’s not even a bedroom, it’s a sitting room with additional doors leading to more places. “I don’t need all this.”

“It’s a palace, Joshua,” Ale points out. He must be feeling at least a little better because he sounds faintly teasing. “It’s supposed to be large and ostentatious. That’s kind of what royalty is all about.”

Josh doesn’t bother noting how he only vaguely knows what ostentatious means. He’s far too busy staring at the inside of the suite and wondering what the hell he’s doing here. This just isn’t the place for a kid from the wrong side of the tracks.

As if sense that Josh is getting overwhelmed, Ale leans in close enough that their arms brush. “If it’s too much -“ he starts, chewing worriedly on his bottom lip. “I don’t know what to tell you, actually. It won’t go over well if we don’t stay.”

Shaking himself out of his stupor, Josh sternly reminds himself that, in over his head though he may be, he can’t fuck this up for Ale. The man has done too much to ease the strain of their situation for Josh to let him down now.

“It’s okay,” he declares, pleased when his voice comes out sounding calm rather than vaguely panicked. “I don’t know what I’m complaining about, really. Who doesn’t want to stay in the equivalent of a five star resort over the holidays?”

Ale continues looking somewhat concerned, so Josh straightens his shoulders and nods at the two doors located at the far end of the suite. “Bathroom and bedroom, I take it?”

“Yes,” Ale agrees. “Bathroom on the left and bedroom on the right. Or, at least I think that’s the set up.” He shrugs, now looking bemused. “These aren’t my room’s, or my sisters’, so I never have any real reason to come in here. They get used for other relatives or other important guests when more than just immediate family are visiting.”

Josh gives him a long look before deciding to go the route with the best chance of a humorous release of tension. “So I’m important, huh? Lucky me.”

Ale snorts, but the elbow he attempts to lodge in Josh’s ribs isn’t nearly as forceful as it could be. “Of course you’re important, guero. You’re with me, after all.”

There’s a self-depreciating note to his words that Josh doesn’t care for, but rather than comment on it, he chooses to take the safer path and leave well enough alone. This week is going to be awkward enough as it is, he’s got no need to be making it worse.

Telling himself that doesn’t mean he’s taking the coward’s way out, Josh asks another innocuous question and tries to feel like he’s not completely out of his depth.

*****

Unfortunately, trying to do something and actually succeeding at it are two very different things. Additionally, the situation is basically designed to make him feel as out of his depth as possible.

They get a brief respite to settle in and relax after their long trip, only to be summoned later that evening and told the entire family will be eating supper together in one of the smaller dining rooms. Josh honestly considers faking a headache to get out of it, but one look at Ale’s face tells him he can’t do that. It’d be too much like throwing the other man to the wolves.

Thanks to this heretofore undiscovered conscience, he suffers through what is honestly the most awkward meal of his life, and that’s including the time when his mom caught him making out with his chemistry tutor when he was sixteen and made the other boy stay for dinner. The conversation is stilted, the decor is too high class for him to feel like he can move without breaking something, and at one point he gets kicked in the shin by someone he’s pretty sure his Carmen aiming for Ale.

All told, he’s had vastly more pleasant experiences, and when he falls asleep in his heavily ornate bed later that night, it’s with the thought that he’s going to have to do it all again tomorrow percolating in his brain.

Given the above, he thinks he can be forgiven for the way he attaches himself to Ale’s side over the next couple of days. Unwilling to be without the one person in the country who gives him any sense of security, Josh basically does his best impression of a limpet and refuses to set foot out of his rooms unless Ale is with him.

He has a sneaking suspicion the queen in particular doesn’t care for this behaviour. She’s perfectly polite whenever she sees him, but it’s a kind of frosty politeness, the kind that screams ‘I am a facade for propriety’s sake’, and he doesn’t miss the way her eyes narrow whenever Ale is openly affectionate towards him.

Josh has no desire to cause additional family tension, but he’s enough of a coward that he has even less of a desire to give up his safety net and leave Ale alone. As a result, he keeps right on trailing after the prince wherever he goes, and point blank refuses to be left alone with any of his relatives.

“They won’t eat you, you know,” Ale tells him early on Christmas Eve morning. They’ve just finished up breakfast, and are wandering the halls of one of the lesser used parts of the palace, neither of them wanting to hide away in their rooms just yet. “In fact, I think they rather like you.”

“Some of them, maybe,” Josh replies. Ale’s sisters seem fine with his presence, and Carmen especially seems to find the whole thing more amusing than anything else. “Not all, though.”

Ale doesn’t answer, but his silence speaks volumes. Sighing, Josh glances around the room they’ve just entered in search of a safer topic. He finds it resting on top of an intricately carved wooden table that dominates one of the room.

“Oh my god, that’s you!” Forgetting all his qualms about never touching anything for fear of how valuable it may be, Josh reaches around a number of framed photos to grab the one that’s caught his eye. “This is the greatest thing I have ever seen. You’re in a literal sailor suit.”

“Yes, yes, we royals do terrible things to our children where ridiculous outfits are concerned.” His face flushing red, Ale tries to bat the frame out of Josh’s hands. “Please put that back and pretend you never found it.”

“Are you kidding?” Josh asks, using his elbows to block Ale’s ridiculously long limbs as best he can. “Screw that, I’m trying to commit it to memory. Are there any more like this?”

Ignoring Ale’s whined “Joshuaaa”, he wriggles away from the other man, still clutching the photo to his chest, and scans the rows of others for anything equally embarrassing.

He spots a couple - Ale in a suit when he can’t be any more than fourteen years old, crammed between his sisters and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else, Ale in what has to be some kind of school photo wearing a uniform that for some reason involves socks pulled up to his knees - but what actually grabs his attention is something entirely different.

“Huh,” he says faintly. Against his better judgement, he reaches out to trace a finger over a shot of Maria, beaming at the camera with her arms wrapped around an equally delighted, albeit much smaller Ale. “How old were you here?”

“In that one? Probably about seven.” His quest to retrieve the original photo from Josh’s grasp seemingly forgotten, Ale picks up this latest one and stares at it with his expression unreasonable. “We were at a different residence, this one near the ocean. She and my father took us down to the beach, just the five of us. He took this picture while my sisters were doing who knows what.”

“You look happy,” Josh offers, unsure of if that’s appropriate or not. “You both do.”

“Yes, well,” his smile turning brittle, Ale sets the picture back down and shifts away from it. “Despite what some would have you believe, I didn’t come out of the womb as the family disappointment. That transformation didn’t start until I was about fourteen.”

“What happened then?” Josh asks, the question slipping out without his permission. Inwardly he curses his stupid mouth, and wonders if he should take it back or not.

If he’s bothered by the question, however, Ale doesn’t show it. Instead, he just shrugs and says simply. “My grandfather died, and suddenly I didn’t have a mother, I had a queen. She was much busier than before, and couldn’t understand why I didn’t understand that. It caused tension.”

“You were a kid,” Josh says. “You wanted your mom, so what?”

“So nothing,” Ale replies. “I acted out, she got more and more frustrated, and now here we are, with neither of us knowing how to talk to the other.”

“I’m sorry,” Josh says, and he doesn’t think he’s ever meant anything more in his life. “Ale, that sucks.”

He doesn’t know if it’s his choice of wording or what, but Ale laughs, some of the tension that’s visibly settled over his shoulders fading in the face of Josh and his complete lack of tact. “It does, indeed, suck, guero. You’re right.”

“Mhm,” humming thoughtfully, Josh gives the other man a considering look. “Y’want a hug?” He asks, figuring it can’t hurt. He’s not really one for open affection, but Ale is, and he looks like he could use some.

The prince just shrugs him off, however. Although, Josh is pretty sure he appreciates the sentiment. “Thank you for the offer, but no. How about you let me show you the grounds, instead? Get some fresh air?”

They haven’t actually left the residence itself since the start of their visit, but Josh has been told the grounds are extensive; including a number of gardens and even a set of stables as well. Figuring they’ll at least be impressive to look at, he nods and lets Ale drag him away, babbling happily about the horses they keep here and the fact that riding is apparently one of his favorite pastimes.

*****

Christmas morning dawns bright and early the next day, and Josh mentally braces himself for the experience when Ale shoves open his door to see if he’s awake yet.

“Ain’t you ever heard of knocking, your Majesty?” Grumbling to himself, Josh makes to shift into a sitting position, only to freeze when he remembers he’d gone to bed without a shirt on the night before. Abruptly feeling self-conscious, he jerks the blankets up as high as he can get them without looking weird.

If Ale notices anything strange about Josh’s behaviour, however, he keeps it to himself. Instead, he sails breezily into the room regardless of any protests, letting the door fall shut behind him with a quiet click.

“I wanted to give you this before we joined everyone else downstairs,” he says, and it’s only now that Josh’s half awake brain notices he’s holding a brightly wrapped package tucked under one arm.

Josh freezes mid-yawn. “You didn’t have to get me anything,” he says awkwardly. “I’m pretty sure the all expenses paid trip to a foreign country was enough.”

Ale makes a scoffing sound low in his throat, and brandishes the gift like he’s going to shove it into Josh’s arms whether he wants it or not. “That was my family who did that,” he declares, “or arguably even the government. This is from me.”

Giving Josh a hopeful look that he finds himself powerless to resist, he nudges the gift forward again, smiling when Josh finally leans forward to take it. “I hope you like it.”

About to offer up some kind of platitude about how he’s sure he will, Josh tears through the soft tissue paper, and finds himself coming face to face with Jack. It’s then that he realizes he’s holding an honest to god framed painting of his dog.

“Holy shit,” he says, at a loss for anything else. Dimly he realizes that in the image, Jack’s dozing in a patch of sunlight in his favorite spot in the garage. It should look ridiculous, but somehow doesn’t. “Ale.”

“I know it’s kind of a strange present,” the other man says in a rush, “but I didn’t think you would appreciate anything too over the top, and I also know how much you love that dog.”

“It’s great,” Josh says quickly, because it looks like Ale’s about to start babbling with nerves. “Honest, I swear. Although,” he adds, flashing a quick grin, “I gotta say, it doesn’t go with anything else I have in my home.”

“Nothing you have in your home goes with anything else,” Ale shoots back, also grinning. “That way it will fit right in.”

Josh laughs, honestly impressed with the comeback. Then he nods towards the dresser on the opposite side of the room. “Top drawer, left hand corner. There’s something in there for you. It ain’t much though. Nothing impressive.”

“I’m sure it’s great,” Ale says, kindly not commenting on the fact that Josh hasn’t bothered to wrap anything, and has instead utilized a plastic bag from his kitchen back home. At least he’d taken the price tags off first.

Ale settles himself on the edge of Josh’s bed to root around in the bag, laughing when he sees what’s on top. “Oh, guero, you’re bad,” he snickers. “Nobody’s supposed to know about this.”

“Then you should maybe stop sneaking onto the balcony when I’m over to smoke ‘em,” Josh says dryly, poking at the box of cigars with a finger. “Though I’ll give you this much, you do a damn good job disposing of the evidence. Took me ages to figure out what brand you like.”

“Yes, well, it’s a dirty habit and doesn’t project the right image these days,” Ale says. “Or so I’ve been told.”

Told by whom, Josh wonders, but doesn’t ask. “There’s more in there,” he says, flicking the bag to make it crinkle.

“What? Oh, right, yes.” Setting aside the cigars, Ale pulls out the soft, burgundy sweater Josh had had Emma help him pick out, and whistles appreciatively. “That’s lovely, thank you.”

Blushing at the compliment, Josh stares studiously at the blankets covering his knees as he wills his face to stop flushing. Damn redness is probably spreading right down his chest too, curse his stupid colouring.

“It’s nothing much,” he says lamely. “I just figured I oughta at least get you something, on account of how we are married and all. Let me know if the sweater doesn’t fit, and I’ll exchange it.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Ale tells him. Leaning over, he pokes Josh’s bare shoulder until he raises his head to look at him. “Thank you, Joshua.”

Josh shrugs helplessly, not knowing what else to say. “Should we be heading downstairs now?”

Something flickers across Ale’s face, there for only an instant, and gone too quickly for Josh to parse out what it is. Then he grins ruefully. “Probably,” he admits. “Are you ready now?”

“Uh, just let me grab a shirt. Maybe some socks.”

Despite his willingness to try and pick a gift out for Ale, Josh had point blank refused to do so for his relatives. He’d made it clear he wouldn’t even begin to know what they might like, and had thus readily agreed to Ale’s suggestion that he pick things out and let Josh sign the tags too.

Judging by the way everyone seems to be cooing over the selected presents, it seems to have worked. Even Maria looks relaxed for once, perched as she is on a couch next to Luis. She smiles appreciatively as she’s handed box after box, giving Ale the first truly affectionate look he’s seen from her when she opens one up and finds a gorgeous silk scarf resting inside.

“It’s beautiful, mijo,” she says, letting her fingers glide over the delicate fabric as she lifts it out of the box. “The colours are lovely.”

His face flushing, Ale ducks his head and busies himself with a smaller box he’s just been handed, this one a present from Carmen. He deftly removes the top, his long fingers making quick work of the trappings holding it shut, only to then shoot his sister a mock glare.

“Oh very funny,” he grumbles. “You’re hilarious.”

“Aren’t I though?” She asks, grinning sunnily over at him. “There’s one for Josh too,” she adds, producing a second small box with a flourish.

Taking it with trepidation, Josh pulls back the ribbon and lifts the lid, groaning when he finds the tiny wedding cake topper dressed like Elvis resting inside. “Nice,” he says, picking it up to he can examine it more closely. “Real nice.”

Carmen shrugs, unbothered, and both Francesca and Luis burst out laughing when they get a good look at the figurine, while Sandro tries and fails to turn a snicker into a couch. Surprisingly, even Maria cracks a faint smile.

“That’s terrible, Carmelita,” she declares, but for once her face doesn’t instantly transform into a scowl at the reminder of what’s brought Josh here today. “You’re not even trying to be subtle.”

“No, I’m really not,” Carmen agrees. Reaching over she retrieves first Josh and then Ale’s gifts, plucking them out of their hands and setting them down next to each other on an available surface. “They’re a set, you see?”

“Mhm,” her expression sobering again, albeit at least not looking legitimately angry, Maria motions them back to the gifts that have yet to be open. “Take this one, it’s from your father and I.”

Clearly not wanting to push her luck, Carmen accepts this next bag without any fuss, slicing the top open with her fingernail and rooting through the tissue paper until she finds what’s inside.

For his part, Josh leans back with a quiet sigh of relief, pleased that nothing too bad has come from the princess’ little joke. Catching Ale’s eye, he gets a quick smile that suggests the other man is thinking the same thing.

Gift opening eventually segues into breakfast, which, for all that it’s the first meal Josh has shared with the entirety of Ale’s immediate family since that initial painfully awkward supper, goes fine. Then they have the rest of the morning and early afternoon to themselves before it’s time to get ready for the gala.

The gala, more than anything, is what Josh has been dreading the most about this trip. As terrifying as the prospect of meeting Ale’s family had been, at least they’d known going into it what to expect from him, and there wouldn’t be anyone reporting on what took place. The same cannot be said for the party.

“You will be fine,” Ale promises him later that evening. They’re standing in Josh’s room, waiting for the last few minutes before they’ll be summoned to head out to pass, and Josh is pretty sure he’s about to start hyperventilating. This does not get better when Ale reaches out to adjust his tie. “You look fantastic by the way.”

“I don’t feel fantastic,” Josh moans. Crammed into a tux that probably costs more than he makes in a year, he feels tense and out of place, and honestly a little like he might be sick. “Will you hold it against me if I throw up on you?”

“Yes,” Ale says seriously, though to his credit he makes no move to step back out of range. “Please do not do that. I’ll have to go get cleaned up if you do, and then we’ll be in trouble for being late.”

“Right,” Josh grits out, his shoulders tending without conscious thought. “And we can’t have that now, can we?”

Rather than laugh at him like he no doubt wants, Ale brushes an imaginary piece of lint from the front of the tux, and then pats his arm encouragingly. “You are going to be fine,” he says firmly. “Everyone will love you, and I will run interference if you’re getting overwhelmed.”

Josh looks him dead in the eye and says very seriously. “You had fuckin’ better.”

Ale’s ensuing laugh at the same time a knock sounds on the door is surprisingly comforting.

*****

Josh has been betrayed.

Upon arriving at the gala, they’d been formally announced, and then he’d found himself introduced to a number of no doubt very important people who’s names he’ll never remember. After which, Ale has made noises about getting them some drinks. That had been at least twenty minutes ago, and he’s yet to reappear.

Not knowing what else to do, Josh has retreated to the closest thing he can find to a corner to hide in, which is where Francesca finds him not long after. The heir apparent gives him a pitying look, and offers him one of the two expensive looking glasses she’s holding.

“Here,” she says. “It’s sparkling water because I can’t drink and you maybe shouldn’t either given the situation, but it’ll give you something to do with your hands.”

Removing his hands from where they’re currently stuffed in his pockets, Josh takes the glass with a grateful nod. “Thanks,” he says. He’s not really a fan of sparkling water, but he’s willing to trust her advice. “Your brother abandoned me.”

“My brother got waylaid,” she replies, knocking back a quick gulp of her drink with a frown. “Don’t take it personally. The last I saw him he was caught in a discussion with some of our mother’s top dignitaries, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.”

“Oh,” Josh says, feeling only slightly mollified. “He still wasn’t supposed to leave me alone.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think he meant to,” Francesca informs him. “Besides,” she adds with a bright smile. “You’re not alone now, are you? You have me.”

Josh supposes that’s better than nothing, but he’s not really in the mood to do anyone any favours. On the other hand, it probably won’t do to say as much, especially since it might get him abandoned again. Shrugging, he searches for a safe topic. “Where’s Sandro?”

Francesca makes a face, before waving a hand errantly over the crowd. “In that mess somewhere. He doesn’t much care for big parties, but he does like discussing politics, and can usually find at least a couple takers to argue with him on nights like these. I imagine he’s enjoying himself wherever he is.”

Josh tries and fails to imagine how anyone could enjoy this event, but wisely keeps that thought to himself. Just because he feels like a fish out of water doesn’t mean anyone else does.

As if she can read his mind, Francesca gives him a friendly poke in the shoulder. “You’re doing very well, you know. And I don’t just mean here tonight. We’ve all been keeping updated on the situation, and so far everything really is under control.”

“It’s true,” a new voice adds before Josh can respond. When he turns he finds Carmen standing far closer than expected, her hair in a wild updo and with a smirk creasing her features. “You’ve already lasted so much longer than we expected.”

“Carmen!” Her sister hisses, shooting her a dirty look. “Behave.”

Ignoring the elder Vasquez entirely, Carmen sidles even closer to Josh, putting him in mind of a hunter zeroing in on its prey. “You know,” she says thoughtfully. “I don’t think we’ve had a chance yet to talk to you without Ale lurking around. How sad is that?”

Josh suddenly wishes very strongly that his glass had alcohol in it. “You gonna give me the shovel talk?” He asks. He’s had them before, but never from royalty. He wonders if that’ll make the experience any more enjoyable.

Carmen’s answering grin does nothing to allay his fears. Nor does the way Francesca shrugs philosophically when he looks at her for help. Resigning himself to his fate, he wonders for the millionth time how he’d ended up here.

*****

“Oh damn,” Francesca says out of the blue, looking annoyed. “Who invited him?”

There’s a snort on Josh’s other side, and he tilts his head just in time to see Carmen take a hearty gulp from her wine glass. “Mama, no doubt,” she murmurs around the crystal rim. “I don’t know why she can’t figure out that he and his boss are nothing but a pair of smooth talking leeches.”

“I don’t know why she can’t figure out that Ale hates him,” Francesca replies. She glares down at her own glass like it’s personally offended her. “Now I really wish I could have alcohol.”

Josh follows the matching gazes of both princesses, finally alighting on where Ale’s talking to a dark haired man in a sharp suit. He watches them carefully for a few moments, eventually coming to the conclusion that it’s not a conversation Ale wants to be part of, not based on the tense line of his shoulders anyway.

As he watches, the guy reaches out to lightly rest a hand on Ale’s forearm, seemingly oblivious to the way Ale subtly tries to draw the limb back. “Who the hell is that?”

“James McCann,” Francesca murmurs, low enough that only Josh and Carmen can hear her. “His boss Bartholomew is an American businessman who resides here on a full time basis. He’s been trying to weasel his way into getting closer ties to our family for years.”

“Who, the boss or the underling?”Josh wonders, still eyeing McCann warily. The guy has the same air as every rich kid who’d picked on him and Red in school. One where he doesn’t care what trouble he gets into because his family’s money will make it like nothing ever happened.

“Both,” Francesca replies. “It began with the boss using his business connections, but James is his second in command, and he started angling to get him invited to things as well. Bastard’s been chasing Ale for a couple years now.”

“And by chasing, you mean?” Josh waggles his eyebrows in a way he hopes gets his point across.

Judging by Francesca’s resulting snicker, it must. “Let’s just say, we figure they were expecting Ale’s reputation to make him a lot more susceptible to James’ advances. Unfortunately for them, Ale can’t stand him.”

“But unfortunately for Ale, the constant rebuffs only seem to make him more persistent,” Carmen adds, making a disgusted face. “And, of course, Ale won’t tell Mama the man makes his skin crawl.”

“No,” Francesca agrees, rolling her eyes heavenward, “because that would involve having a real discussion with her, and these days the bulk of their interactions involve her yelling at him for something, while he simply takes it.”

“Right, well,” Josh decides to cut in before he winds up hearing more intimate family details than he’s comfortable with. “If you two don’t mind, I think I’m gonna go rescue him.”

The two sisters share a look he doesn’t have a hope in hell of parsing out, but Josh decides he doesn’t want to know what that means. Slipping out from between the pair of them, he maneuvers through the crowd with a set destination in mind, pausing only briefly to swipe a full glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he purrs, low and sultry as he comes up behind Ale. Hooking one arm around the man’s waist, he holds up the recently procured glass with his free hand. “Brought you that drink you asked for.”

Ale twitches minutely in his hold, but that’s the only sign of surprise he gives at Josh’s arrival, and it’s small enough McCann likely misses it. Then he relaxes in Josh’s grip, practically melting against his side as he accepts the glass.

“Gracias, querido,” he says as he takes a sip. “I was starting to wonder what was taking so long.”

Josh doesn’t think he’s imagining the hint of gratitude lurking in Ale’s voice, and he pats his hip gently while maintaining his hold. “Blame your sisters,” he lies. “They caught me over by the fountain.”

“Ah,” Ale replies, shooting him a crooked grin. “I did warn you about letting them snag you, didn’t I? They keep going on about wanting to give you the third degree.”

Willing to bet that’s the truth and not a joke, Josh rolls his eyes. “They’ve been doing that the whole night,” he grunts. “I know you said they would, but I wasn’t prepared for how bad they’d be.”

“Well,” Ale says brightly. “So far they haven’t gone beyond embarrassingly personal questions, which is downright tame for them. I think they like you.”

“Lucky me,” Josh mutters. Then he makes a deliberate show of finally noticing the man who’s still hovering nearby. Apparently Josh’s arrival wasn’t enough to shoo him away. “Who’s your friend, honey?”

Ale’s just had another sip of champagne, and he sputters at Josh’s use of the pet name. “This is James,” he says once he’s gotten himself under control. “His employer is ... a friend of my mother’s.”

“Alejandro, I’m hurt,” McCann drawls. He flashes a smile that in no way reaches his eyes, and then winks. “After all this time, aren’t we friends too?”

The grin Ale offers up at this is hands down the fakest thing Josh has ever seen cross his face. “Sure,” he says, the lie as blatant as any Josh has ever heard. “Of course.”

Even though he knows he shouldn’t, Josh strokes a soothing hand along Ale’s side, wanting to provide what support he can. The motion is largely covered up by the jacket Ale’s wearing, but Josh doesn’t miss the pleased huff that escapes his mouth, or the way he rubs their shoulders together in thanks.

Nor, for that matter does McCann. His own smile going brittle, he tightens his grip on the glass in his hand, such that Josh is slightly surprised he doesn’t snap it off at the stem.

“You know, Alejandro,” he says, and Josh is pretty sure he’s trying hard not to clench his teeth, “I always assumed your refusal to go on a date with me was due to my being American. I didn’t realize it was on account of my not being a charity case.”

Josh scowls in annoyance. He’s heard far worse from far better people, so the insult barely even registers. What ticks him off is the way McCann’s words undo all his work by making Ale tense up again.

“Is that really the best you’ve got?” He asks, speaking up before Ale can stop choking angrily long enough to find his voice. He takes a nonchalant swig of his own drink, giving McCann his most disdainful glance. “Because if it is then it’s no wonder you can’t hold his interest.”

McCann’s lip curls as he loses any semblance of his pleasant facade. “Do you really want to go there?” He asks. “I’ve read the articles, everybody here has. You’re a nobody from the gutter. I could buy and sell that little garage of yours a thousand times over.”

Josh laughs, and he honestly does find the whole thing funny. “I guess that’s the difference between you and me,” he says with a shrug. “Y’see, you’re looking at the big picture, but me, I’m just wondering how many punches it’ll take to shatter your nose if I start swinging.”

McCann blinks, and takes an automatic step back, as if he thinks Josh is serious. “You wouldn’t.”

“Probably not, no,” Josh admits. “But who knows? Us gutter types do tend to resort to using our fists if the circumstances call for it. Maybe I’ll become overwhelmed and forget where I am.”

That makes McCann sneer. “You don’t belong here,” he growls, seemingly having forgotten Ale’s presence as he zeroes in on Josh. “And you won’t last.”

“Well now, that’s not really up to either of us, is it?” Josh asks. “It does, however, highlight the other big difference between us,” he adds, nodding at Ale, who’s watching their little sparring match intently. “Which is that he chose me, and not you.”

“Yes, I did,” Ale cuts in smoothly, stepping in before things can escalate any further. “And I’m suddenly reminded that you promised me a dance earlier. Come on, Joshua.”

Josh gives McCann his most obnoxious grin and a two fingered salute as he’s dragged away, but then immediately turns to Ale once they’re out of sight. “I can’t dance,” he hisses. “Your PR goons must’ve forgotten that in their royal makeover.”

Ale laughs as he steers him through the crowd, keeping their arms linked together even though there’s no way McCann can still see them. “I know,” he says, “I was only using it as an excuse to get away.”

“Oh,” Josh says, allowing himself to be tugged along without any fuss. “Nice move,” he adds when they finally come to a stop on the other side of the room. “But are you okay?”

Ale looks at him in surprise, only now dropping Josh’s arm as he turns to face him. “I think it’s me who should be asking that question. What James said was -“

“True,” Josh finishes easily. “For the most part, anyway. It also wasn’t anything I ain’t heard before, and I’m not the one he had his grubby paws all over. So I repeat, are you okay?”

Ale gazes at him for an uncomfortable amount of time before his mouth tilts up in a shy smile. “Guero,” he says, so quietly that Josh can barely hear him, “if we were not already married, I’m pretty sure I would propose right now.”

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, right before he leans forward and gives Josh a lightening fast kiss. “Mistletoe,” he says, pointing upwards with an impish grin when Josh gapes at him. “Can’t break tradition, right?”

“Ale, there’s people everywhere,” Josh hisses, but all this earns him is an amused smirk.

“Yes,” Ale says slyly. “The lot of whom think we’re a couple. I doubt anyone will be too stressed.”

Josh starts to agree with him, but happens to glance around the room before he does so. Unexpectedly, he locks eyes with Maria. Gone is her relative ease from this morning, and her frosty expression is more than enough to tell him she’d witnessed the kiss.

He ducks his head, and pretends to be suddenly very interested in his drink. “Whatever you say, Ale,” he says around the glass. “Whatever you say.”

*****

The party breaks up earlier than Josh is expecting, but when he says as much to Ale, he gets a shrug in response.

“It’s because it’s Christmas,” he says as they make their way through the cavernous halls of the palace, wandering towards the rooms they’ve been given. “Even noblemen and women prefer to be with their loved ones tonight. If you want an all-nighter, we should stick around for New Years.”

“Is that something you want?” Josh asks, feeling wary. They’d agreed to do just Christmas here, and New Years back in America with Josh’s people, but it’s not like he can do much if Ale decides he wants to stay.

Luckily, that doesn’t appear to be the case. Ale shifts to raise his eyebrows incredulously, before he frowns. “I promised you we’d be back in California by then, and I’m a man of my word. Contrary to what many would have you believe.”

Josh elbows him, and he isn’t gentle about it. “Quit talking like that,” he snaps when Ale does a double-take. “S’bad enough people say that kind of bull about you, don’t you go repeating it.”

“No,” he says when Ale looks like he’s gearing up to protest. “It’s absolute horseshit, and we both know it. Knock it off.”

“Wait, are you actually angry with me right now?” Ale says, rushing to keep up while Josh stalks on ahead of him. “Joshua, it was just a joke!”

“Was it? Or is that how you really think about yourself?” Josh demands. He doesn’t know why he’s so bothered by this all of a sudden, maybe it’s all the pressure of where they are and what they’re doing. Whatever the reason, he’s done hearing people talk about Ale like he’s nothing but an irresponsible layabout. Including the man himself. “You talk like that all the time, Ale, and I’m pretty sure you believe what you say.”

“Well, what about you?” Ale asks, now sounding just as forceful as Josh himself. “You do the same thing, about yourself, I mean, not me. You just did it in front of James - just let him talk to you like, like you don’t even matter.”

“That would be because in the grand scheme of things, I don’t,” Josh says flatly, wondering how this conversation has managed to get so spectacularly turned around. “I’m not anybody important, Ale. I never have been, and I never will be.”

He turns then, fully intending to bolt for his room, but he’s forced to stop when Ale lashes out with one hand to grip his shoulder. “You’re important to Red,” he says, his voice serious. “You’re important to Emma and Jack. And,” he adds, speaking over Josh when he snorts at the idea that his dog’s opinion matters much in the grand scheme of things, “You’re important to me. So, you should just ... stop talking like that too.”

“You first,” Josh insists.

“Fine!” Ale snaps. “I will!”

“Good!” Josh shoots back, and he’s not sure which of them cracks first, but one moment they’re glaring at each other in the middle of the hallway, and the next they’re both laughing, the noise bouncing off the walls when they can’t bring themselves to stop.

“Do I even want to know?” Someone asks from behind them, and when they each crane their necks to look, they’re greeted with the sight of Carmen idly tapping one bare foot against the plush carpet. Her hair’s still up in the same fancy mess from the party, but her jewelry’s gone, and her gown’s been replaced by a pair of pajamas. She’s also, Josh notes, got a bottle of something shoved under one arm, and a tin of some kind under the other.

“Ale,” she says now, sounding reproachful. “You’re late.”

“I know, I know,” her brother replies. “It took us longer than I expected to leave the party.”

Carmen sniffs, clearly unimpressed, and juggles the items she’s carrying a little. “Well, hurry up. I’m not waiting for you to start in on the junk food. Oh, and we’re using Francesca’s room this year. She says being pregnant means she gets to pick.”

“Of course she did,” Ale says, rolling his eyes. “We’re coming. Don’t worry.”

“You better be.” Shooting Josh and Ale an ominous glare, she slides between the two of them and goes marching up the hall. “You’ve got ten minutes,” she calls over her shoulder. “After that, I’m letting Francesca deal with you.”

“What’s going on?” Josh asks, yelping in surprise when Ale grabs his wrist and tugs him towards their adjoining suites at a much faster pace. “Ale?”

“Sibling tradition,” Ale says, not slowing down any. “We do it every year. Pajamas and snacks after the big Christmas dinner with just the three of us, and our partners, if we have them,” he adds when Josh starts to protest. “This year, that includes you.”

“But I’m not -“ Josh starts to say. He doesn’t get a chance to finish, however, because they reach the door to his room soon enough, and then Ale’s shoving him inside with a command to get changed and then meet him back in the hallway.

There’s a small part of Josh that wants to refuse to leave his room now that he’s back in it, but the rest of him figures that’s probably be rude, and worse, might hurt Ale’s feelings. Not liking the thought of that, he peels himself out of his suit as quickly as possible, and then pulls on the sleep pants and he’s been using since they’ve been here, along with a t-shirt.

Ale’s waiting for him when he emerges from his rooms. He’s changed as well, switched into sleep clothes, as well as balancing a couple of containers in his arms.

“Where did those come from?” Josh wonders when he spots them. “Did you bring them over on the plane?”

“Oh, no,” Ale replies. “I had them picked up after we got in. Like I said, we do this every year.”

“Right,” Josh remembers. “Are you sure your sisters won’t mind me crashing?”

“My sisters will only mind if you don’t join us,” Ale informs him. “Trust me on this. I am very good at predicting how they will respond. Come on.”

They can hear what sounds an awful lot like arguing as they approach a set of doors that Josh assumes lead to Francesca’s rooms. He’s not sure they should go in if people are upset, but all Ale does is roll his eyes when Josh shoots him a concerned look, and then he elbows both doors open. “What are you two fighting about now?”

Carmen holds up a bottle of wine. “Francesca’s trying to ban booze this year,” she complains. “She’s totally going against tradition.”

Snatching the bottle out of her younger sister’s grasp, Francesca sets it down on a table out of Carmen’s reach before flattening her hands over the swell of her stomach. “As your future queen, I’ve decreed that if I can’t drink, neither can you assholes.”

“You’re not queen yet,” Carmen mutters, “and even if you were that’d be a huge abuse of power.”

“Please don’t test her,” Sandro says from where he’s arranging what looks like a tray of snacks. He takes the tins Ale’s holding, and begins opening them as well. “I don’t want to listen to her complain all night. I mean -“

He pauses mid-sentence, meeting his wife’s glare sheepishly when she shifts her focus to him. “I love you very much?” He tries.

“You,” Francesca says pointedly, “are on notice. Meanwhile,” she adds, while Josh is pondering whether her threat is more or less frightening because of how vague it is, “no alcohol. Does anybody have a problem with that?”

Carmen starts to raise her hand, but Ale leans over to catch her before she can get it up all the way. “Be nice,” he says. “She’s not feeling well, and it’s Christmas.”

“Oh, alright,” Carmen grumbles while Francesca gives Ale the first smile she’s made since his and Josh’s arrival. “But nothing’s going to stop me at New Years. You’re not going to be there, and someone’s got to uphold your tradition of getting drunk off your face and falling into the fountain.”

“That was one time!” Ale protests. Dropping onto an available sofa, he motions for Josh to take the spot next to him while his sisters start snickering. “And I wasn’t even that drunk. I tripped trying to get away from a very handsy countess.”

“Madelena,” Francesca and Carmen both chorus, their laughter increasing when Ale pouts.

“She was trying to unbutton my shirt in public,” he grunts, “and I wasn’t a little bit interested in her. I wouldn’t have been even if we were somewhere private.”

Getting the sense that Ale’s not as amused by this story as his sisters are, Josh nudges him with a knee to try and distract him. “That’s ‘cause you were waiting for me, right?”

Ale hums thoughtfully. “I certainly could have used you,” he decides. “Though she was persistent enough, I’m not sure you’d have been able to scare her off.”

“I don’t know about that,” Francesca says. She’s found a beverage Josh is going to assume is non-alcoholic, and is in the process of pouring herself a glass. “He did a damn good job of getting you away from McCann tonight. I’ve never seen the bastard look so put out.”

“That’s true,” Carmen agrees. She’s now sprawled in an oversized armchair with her legs kicked over one side. “Usually he’s pretty good at looking cool and collected when you turn him down, but tonight he had a face like thunder.”

Josh recalls how McCann hadn’t been the only person ticked off by his actions, and squirms awkwardly when everyone else turns to look at him. “It wasn’t a big deal,” he mumbles, glancing down at his feet. “Someone had to do it.”

“Yes, well,” as if she can sense the growing tension in the room, Francesca visibly searches for another topic. “It actually is too bad that you two won’t be around for the New Years celebration. That one tends to be a lot more fun.”

“Joshua has New Years traditions of his own back home,” Ale cuts in when Josh flinches at that too. “We decided it was only fair to split Christmas and New Years, and he wanted that one more.”

“S’the one I tend to actually celebrate,” Josh explains, once again finding himself the centre of attention. “If I was back home right now, I’d already be alone for the evening.”

“Wait, what?” Sitting up straighter, Ale gives him a concerned look. “You never told me that was the reason. Why would you be alone?”

Josh shrugs, wishing he hadn’t said anything. “Emma and Matthew have their own family stuff, and Red’s not big into Christmas. He’ll come hang with me for a bit early on, he’s done that ever since my Ma passed, but normally we all just wait until New Years to get together.”

Silence descends around the room, and Josh is on the verge of getting up and leaving before he kills the mood even further, when Francesca clears her throat. “I’ve changed my mind,” she says, grabbing for the previously confiscated bottle of wine. “Josh deserves alcohol, and I guess the rest of you can have some too.”

Sandro sighs, and gets up from his seat. “I’ll find a bottle opener.”

Despite the booze that’s suddenly on offer, Josh doesn’t find himself all that keen on indulging. He takes the glass he’s offered, and sips from it occasionally, but it’s Ale and Carmen who really go at it.

“This is so unfair,” Francesca says mournfully. She’s watching her younger siblings bicker over some sporting event Josh has never heard of, each of them getting increasingly uncoordinated the more they drink.

“Usually I’m right in the middle of that,” she explains when Josh turns to look at her. She gestures with her glass, which is once again full of water like it had been at the main party. “But this year ...” she taps a finger against her stomach, and shoots Sandro a dirty look where he’s half asleep in one of the armchairs. “I hope he gets the mother of all cricks in his neck.”

“Aren’t you excited?” Josh asks, only to immediately regret the question. He barely knows her, and that’s something far too personal to be asking.

However, if Francesca’s offended, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she waves her free hand airily. “Of course I’m excited. I’m also uncomfortable, can’t sleep on my stomach, and have to pee basically every moment of every day. In short, I’m very much ready for this to be over.”

“When’re you due?” Josh asks, suddenly realizing he has no idea.

She makes a face. “Not until the start of March,” she says. “I’m sure it’ll all be worth it in the end, but until then ...”

“Right,” he replies, not knowing what else to say. “Uh, I’m sure you’ll be a good mom.”

“I hope so.” Francesca stares into the depths of her glass, like she can see something in it that she didn’t expect. “I would say I had a great example to look up to, but lately ...” She shifts her gaze to Ale, her expression troubled. “Lately I’m not so sure.”

Words haven’t been invented yet to describe how little Josh wants to pursue that topic. Distracting her with a random question, he steers the conversation away from her family, and keeps it that way for the rest of the night.

*****

By the time their unofficial part of the Christmas party breaks up, it’s pushing four o’clock in the morning, and Josh is the only person who’s still largely functional. Sandro gave up and went to bed over an hour ago, while Carmen is listing precariously in her seat, and Francesca can barely keep her eyes open.

“Leave her where she is,” Francesca says when Carmen finally gives up the ghost and sags into the couch. “Just shift her around so she won’t choke if she pukes. She can sleep there for the night.”

“If you’re sure,” Josh says dubiously. Doing as asked, he sets Carmen to rights, and then tosses a blanket over her in case she gets cold. “I could still carry her back to her room though.”

Francesca gives him a look that’s uncomfortably shrewd despite how exhausted she is. “It’s fine,” she says after too much time has passed. “This isn’t the first Christmas where one or more of us has crashed in the other’s room. Just take Ale, and we’re good.”

Ale. Right. Josh hadn’t forgotten about him, but nor had he entirely known what to do with him.

While somehow more awake than Carmen, Ale is, to put it mildly, drunk off his ass. He gives Josh a bleary eyed stare when he hooks an arm around his shoulders to haul him to his feet, and stumbles before he’s taken more than two steps.

“Whoa there, big guy,” Josh barks. Setting the other man to rights, he glances around and sees that Francesca has disappeared. Sighing, he adjusts his grip on Ale, moving to tug him towards the door. “C’mon, it’s bedtime.”

Ale mumbles something Josh can’t make out, and then proceeds to try and mash his face into Josh’s neck, getting more and more clingy as they trudge down the hallway towards their own rooms.

“Of course you’re a cuddly drunk,” Josh mutters as he drags him along. “Why am I not surprised.” He hasn’t actually seen Ale drunk since the fateful night they met, and given his own state of mind at the time, he doesn’t exactly remember it.

“Let’s just get you into bed,” he says, which for some reason makes Ale laugh. “You got a funny sense of humour, your highness.”

Elbowing the correct door open is no easy feat when he’s got Ale hanging off him, but Josh still manages it. Grateful that sleepwear had been the dress code for Francesca’s room, he hauls the prince over to his bed, and dumps him unceremoniously on top of the covers. “Stay there,” he says when Ale blinks up at him. “I’m going to go find you some stuff to help with the inevitable hangover.”

He’s not expecting a response, and nor does he get one. Ale doesn’t say a word while Josh roots around in his bathroom until he comes up with a small bottle of Advil, and he doesn’t move when Josh sets both it and a glass of water near the table by his head.

Josh almost lets him be at that, but some previously unknown sense of duty refuses to release him, and he finds himself pulling at the bedcovers to try and get Ale into a position more comfortable to sleep in.

“Easy does it,” he says as he shoves Ale under the blankets. “Come on now, do yourself a favour and sleep like a normal person. Don’t you want to be comfy?”

Ale cracks his eyes open at this, and moving with surprising dexterity considering the amount of booze he’s had, he curls his arms around Josh’s neck to drag him down onto the bed.

“Um,” Josh says. He flails around a bit to try and free himself, but Ale’s hold is relentless, and he shifts until he’s effectively pinning Josh to the mattress with his body.

“Don’t leave,” Ale says, mumbling the words into the hollow of his throat. They’re too muffled for Josh to make them out at first, but then they replay themselves over in his head until he clues in.

“Ale,” he starts weakly. “Ale, I can’t stay here.”

“Why not?” He squirms a little, somehow pressing even more tightly into Josh’s side. “I want you to stay.”

Josh has no idea where this is coming from, but he’s almost positive it’s the alcohol talking. He takes a deep breath. “I can’t stay,” he repeats. “I - your mom would be mad if she knew,” he tries lamely.

Ale’s quiet for a few long moments, and then. “She’s always mad when it’s me involved,” he says, sadly enough that Josh instinctively curls an arm around him despite his protests about leaving. “I don’t know how to stop that. I wish I did.”

“Hey,” Josh starts, only to stop when he has nothing better to add. He rubs Ale’s back while trying not to think about what a bad idea that is. “It’s okay.”

The scoffing noise Ale lets out is heavy enough that Josh can feel it against his body. “I’m so tired of being alone,” and that might also be the booze talking, in fact it almost definitely is, but there’s no way Josh can abandon him now.

“Alright,” he says, pitching his voice in a low grumble to try and make it seem like this is more of a hardship than it is as he squirms around to try and make himself comfortable. “If it’s that important to you, I’ll stay.”

“I knew you would,” Ale replies, and for a moment he sounds smug despite the booze-based fog he’s operating in. Then he slides right back into somber. “You’re the only one who ever does. Thank you.”

“Hey, don’t read anything into it,” Josh says weakly. “Maybe it’s because your bed’s nicer than mine, huh? You ever think of that?”

In answer, Ale burrows into his chest again. “I didn’t mean just for this,” and oh how Josh wishes he could see his face right now. Though he’s honestly not sure if that would make things better or worse. “I meant for everything. The marriage, the media ... McCann.”

“Okay that last one you definitely don’t need to thank me for,” Josh grunts. “The bastard totally deserved to be told off for the way he was pawing all over you when you clearly didn’t like it.”

“He does it all the time,” Ale says, like it’s perfectly normal and not at all horrifying. “He wants me to date him in the hopes that it’ll help him and his boss get better market deals.”

“Gross,” Josh says succinctly. “You should punch him the next time he tries it, or I can do it if I’m around.”

For some reason that makes Ale laugh and give him a squeeze. “Gracias.”

“Anytime,” Josh promises. “Now shut up and go to sleep. I’m willing to bet your head’s going to be killing you tomorrow, so the more rest you get, the better.”

“So wise, guero,” Ale snickers, but at least he settles down.

*****

After that, Josh expects things to get weird between them, and finds himself surprised when they don’t. He’s the first to wake up the next morning, so he ducks into his own room while Ale is still conked out in the other bed. Neither of them says anything when Ale surfaces hours later looking more than a little worse for wear, and they keep right on not saying anything for the rest of their stay in the palace.

They fly out early in the morning on New Years Eve, meaning they stick around long enough to put in a number of appearances, but manage to get back to California with enough time to spare before Matthew and Emma’s annual New Years party.

Josh takes off as soon as they’re off the plane, wanting to rescue Jack from Red (or possibly the other way around) before he has to be anywhere else. He and Ale agree to meet at his place later, which means all he has to do is grab his dog and head home.

As always, Jack gives him the silent treatment for 2.0 seconds before his glee at seeing Josh gets the best of him, and he tromps over to come enthusiastically say hello. Laughing, Josh meets him halfway, and just barely manages to stay on his feet when the big dog rears up to scrabble at his chest.

“Hey, fella,” he croons. “I missed you too. Yes, I did. Were you a good boy for Red?”

In answer, Red leans casually against a doorframe, and stretches out an arm towards a pile of ... something. Josh winces when he recognizes what he thinks is a kitchen chair. “...oops?”

Red snorts. “I suppose it was my own fault for having the nerve to leave him alone for two minutes to go to the bathroom. You can pay me back later.”

“Deal,” Josh says. Clipping Jack’s leash to his collar, he tugs his dog after him. “C’mon, big guy. We better get out of here before you destroy something else.”

“He also ate half a dozen salmon steaks I was going to cook!” Red calls after them.

Josh winces. “Faster, buddy.”

His previous manners aside, Jack is perfectly well behaved on the drive home, and he’s as calm as anything once they’re inside their own place. Josh sets out his dishes for him, and then goes to unpack his own suitcase.

He’s just finished that up, and is considering a quick catnap on the couch when the buzzer rings. Surprised - it’s barely five o’clock, way too early for Emma to start harassing him about not being late - he goes to answer it.

The last person he’s expect to find there is Ale, especially sans security detail, but that’s exactly what he does. “Sorry?” Josh asks, confused. “I thought I was picking you up?”

“I changed my mind.” Shouldering his way past Josh, Ale slinks into the apartment, already heading for the living room. “The condo is depressing and empty, and you’re the only person I know well in the city who doesn’t technically work for me.”

As excuses go, Josh honestly can’t tell if that one’s good or bad. Figuring he probably won’t ever figure it out, he shrugs and closes the door. “What’d you do to ditch Sam?”

“I didn’t ditch him at all,” Ale replies. He’s found one of Jack’s sturdier toys from somewhere, and is trailing it in front of the dog’s nose to entice him into a game of tug of war. Grinning when he succeeds, and Jack latches on to the other end, he leans back to hold on as best as he can. “He dropped me off, and he’ll be back in a couple of hours to pick us up.”

“Great, let’s hope he’s not out circling the block for the next however long,” Josh grumbles. “You and I both know that just pisses him off.”

“Many things piss Sam off,” Ale replies, while continuing to make faces at Jack. “Many, many things.”

“Uh huh,” Josh says. His previous intention to nap now off the table, he moves over to the couch, prodding Ale in the shoulder when he doesn’t immediately make room. “Scoot over, would you? I guess we can throw on a movie or some shit until it’s time to go.”

Ale obediently slides down the couch, dragging Jack with him through his hold on the toy. He makes no complaint when Josh queues up the tv, and they wind up settling on an action flick that both of them have seen before because, as Ale puts it, “We’re already in a romcom, no need for another.”

“I think it’s more of a straight up comedy,” Josh mutters. He’s pretty sure his face is heating, and he slouches further into the couch in the faint hope Ale won’t notice.

Eventually it gets late enough to head out, so they say goodbye to Jack, who stares at them forlornly as the door closes in his face.

Ale taps his foot against the floor of the stairwell while Josh locks the door. “I feel bad,” he announces when the bolt clicks down. “We’re leaving him all alone.”

“As touching as that is,” Josh says dryly, “We’re not exactly doing it for no reason. There’ll be too many people around to bring him.”

Ale scoffs at this, clearly offended on Jack’s behalf, and Josh feels another one of those odd swells of emotion that he’s been getting of late. Sternly telling it to fuck off, he quietly follows Ale down the stairs, and then into the waiting cars.

Like every year, Emma and Matthew’s party is in full swing by the time Josh shows his face. There’s a crowd of people milling about, most of whom he knows to some extent or other, and he hopes no one will be weird this year just because he has Ale with him.

Matthew materializes almost the moment they walk in the door. Offering to take their coats, he immediately replaces them with two glasses of bubbly, and then whisks away again to see somebody else, ever the dutiful host.

“You know,” Ale says thoughtfully once he’s gone. “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard him speak. Also, this is good champagne.”

“Glad it meets your approval,” Josh says, taking a sip of his own. “Do you mind if I go try and find Red? He’s probably hiding around here somewhere.”

“Sure, go,” Ale gestures at the crowd with his glass, and gives Josh a teasing grin. “Unlike you, I know how to mingle.”

Deciding he’s not going to get a better opportunity, Josh nods and slips through the press of bodies. He heads for the kitchen, where Red can usually be found holding court, and isn’t surprised to see him sitting on the countertop with a beer in hand.

“Where’d you get that?” Josh asks, hopping up next to him. “I was under the impression this party was fancy booze only. Like every year.”

“Stole it out of the fridge when Matthew had his back turned,” Red tells him. “Like every year.”

Josh knocks his glass against Red’s bottle with a grin.

They stay where they are for the next while, both of them content to hide out with each other, chatting only occasionally to people like Emma’s assistant Teddy when they wander through the room. That’s where Ale finds them later when it’s verging on midnight.

“Have you two been in here the whole time?” He asks curiously. Josh doesn’t think he’s bothered, merely surprised, but he finds himself suddenly feeling guilty.

“Yeah,” he admits, hopping down onto the floor. “Sorry about that, didn’t mean to abandon you with strangers.”

Ale smiles lazily, still looking unconcerned. “It’s no problem,” he says. “I told you I know how to mingle. I was talking with ...” He holds up a hand to about his own shoulder height. “About this tall. Older. He kept going on about the perils of the hospitality industry.”

“Gavin,” Red and Josh say in matching tones.

“Right, yes,” Ale agrees. “Teddy introduced me to him, and the three of us chatted for a while. Then I met,” he frowns again. “Friendly. Teacher. Has a teenager he’s raising on his own.”

“Josiah.” Red and Josh both say.

Ale nods. “Yes, I liked him. He showed me pictures of his son. Apparently he just won an award in a woodworking class.”

Josh shakes his head. “How do you pick up this stuff?” He asks. “No, wait,” he holds up a hand when Ale opens his mouth to respond. “You know how mingle.”

The grin Ale gives him is bright and relaxed, as well as more genuine than anything he’d made at his family’s Christmas gala. “Exactly. It’s almost twelve, though, so I came to find you.”

Red makes a curious sound at this, but Josh ignores him. Setting his empty glass down on the counter in the spot he’d previously been sitting, he keeps his gaze fixed on Ale. “What’s up?”

Ale shrugs. “I heard someone say they were going to do a countdown in the living room. Are we supposed to make an appearance for that?”

“Everyone’s supposed to make an appearance for that,” Red says forlornly. “Emma and Matthew are traditionalists.” He says the word traditionalists the way some people might say ‘raw sewage’, but nevertheless allows himself to be prodded out of the kitchen.

“At least I don’t have to worry about you kissing me this year,” he says, brightening somewhat when the three of them find an unoccupied space near the back of the room. “That’s nice.”

“Hmm, what?” Only half listening to him, Josh turns right when people start counting down from ten. “The heck are you going on - mmph!”

Ale’s hand curling around his face to shift him back around is enough of a surprise on its own, but he’s honestly not expecting it when the man brings their mouths together in a deep kiss. Nor is he ready for when Ale loops his arms around his neck, holding him securely in place.

“What the fuck?” He asks when Ale finally pulls off, although he can’t help but notice that his arms haven’t moved. “Can I help you, your majesty?”

Ale leans in and smacks an obnoxious kiss on his cheek. “Most of the people here think we’re a couple,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that it’s unlikely anyone else can hear him, especially when Red starts audibly snickering nearby. “Have to make it look good, no?”

“I - sure,” Josh says, remembering the mistletoe at the Christmas gala and suddenly feeling hollow. “Whatever you think is best.”

Ale nods agreeably, and maintains his hold on Josh. It’s distracting, that, so much so that Josh doesn’t notice when Red abruptly stops snickering, and frowns instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s another chapter done me and dusted. This one’s on the long side, partly because it encompasses an entire event (the holidays) and partly to make up for the fact that Chapter 5 is nowhere near completed. I do have a full outline, however. I figure we’re looking at two more chapters, possibly three if I split the next one. We shall see!
> 
> Up next, some drama ensues and the boys get a surprise visitor!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are with the next bit! Im having to skimp a bit on editing due to the fact that I’m running out the door for a work conference, but I wanted to at least get it out there. I’ll probably give it another look through once I’m back :)

After that Josh does his best to put all interest in the holidays out of his mind, and it seems to work. He and Ale slip back into the routine they’ve developed since meeting each other, which is something that no one seems to have any interest in disrupting.

Everything feels so normal in fact, that Josh almost forgets this isn’t real life, and that there’s a deadline for how long it’s going to continue. Before he knows it he’s had Ale in his life for eight months, and it feels like the man has always been there.

Given everything that’s taken place over said eight months - not to mention all the information he’s been forced to try and keep track of - Josh thinks he can be forgiven for forgetting that they’re right on top of Francesca’s due date. He’s only spent about a week in the woman’s company, and even Ale’s frequent comments about recent chats with his sisters only sink in so far.

He had known, obviously, that the latest member of the royal family was going to arrive at some point, but it was a distant enough fact that he’s still surprised when Ale wakes him up one morning to tell him he’s got a brand new niece.

Naturally, this news breaks at an absurd hour on a Sunday morning, so Josh barely manages to answer his phone correctly after the third attempt, and it takes him much longer than it should to realize both who he’s talking to and what they’re saying.

“Your sister had her baby,” he finally concludes. (In his defence it is hellishly early and Ale keeps excitedly switching back and forth between English and Spanish.) “That’s nice.”

Rather than take offence at Josh’s seeming indifference, Ale laughs. “Not yet awake, huh, guero?” He asks fondly. “That’s alright, I should have thought more before I called.”

“S’alright,” Josh assures him, the words cracking in the middle around an enormous yawn. “Babies are, like, special. Or whatever. Everything went okay then?”

“Yes, yes, Francesca and the baby are fine, and I’m told that Sandro is only mildly bruised. Everyone is very pleased. Are you still coming over today?”

Caught trying to process how Sandro got thrown in the mix, it takes Josh a second to realize that last sentence requires an actual response from him. “Sure, why?”

There’s a faint pause, and when Ale speaks again his tone has dimmed just a fraction. “Goody will be coming over to discuss how the birth effects us. I’m going to have to go home soon, at least for a little while because of the baby.”

“Right on,” Josh says, since he probably should have realized as much. “Reckon that makes sense. Hey, tell Francesca I said congrats, will you?”

“Of course,” Ale replies, and his voice has ratcheted right back up to its previously excited register. “I’m sure she will appreciate it.”

For his part, Josh doubts she’ll notice one way or another. Between the trials and tribulations of being a brand new mother, he figures his best wishes are more likely to get lost in the flood of the no doubt hundreds more that are coming Francesca’s way.

Still, there’s no reason not to at least make an effort, and he hadn’t been lying when he’d told Ale babies were special. Smiling faintly as he hangs up the phone, he tosses it somewhere in the depths of the bed covers, and resolves to get a bit more sleep before moving for real.

*****

Josh arrives at the condo around mid-afternoon, and it becomes obvious right from the start that the shine of becoming an uncle has yet to wear off. The door has barely closed behind him when Ale grabs him by the wrist and drags him further inside to show him the various presents he’s ordered online.

“I’m having them shipped straight over rather than having them come here first,” he informs Josh, paused on a picture of a mobile with different coloured horses dangling from its poles. “That way she won’t have to wait until I get there to see it all.”

Unsure if he’s referring to Francesca or the baby, Josh merely nods in all the right places, not wanting to quash anyone’s enthusiasm. Out of the corner of one eye, he notes that Goodnight’s seated at the kitchen island with Sam and Billy standing nearby; all three of them looking bemused.

Nodding to show he knows they’re there, Josh returns his attention to Ale, wondering just how much stuff he’s actually bought. “Dude,” he says finally, “if they stick her in with all these at once, no one’s gonna be able to find her again.”

Ale makes a scoffing sound, but does at least draw back his phone and the multitude of baby items contained therein. “She’s a princess, Joshua. Literally. You should have seen the nursery my sisters and I grew up in.”

“There was a lot of lace,” Sam supplies helpfully. “Frills, ruffles, that sort of thing. Not to mention more toys than you could shake a stick at.”

“Exactly,” Ale says, either not noticing or not caring that Sam is teasing him. “I’m just continuing the tradition.”

“Well then, I’m sure the kid will appreciate it,” Josh says fondly. “Now, what is it You guys need me for?”

“Oh, that.” Ale waves a hand dismissively towards the Goodnight. “Like I told you, I’m going to have to go home for the birth announcement. Unlike Christmas, apparently you don’t get an invite this time.”

He sounds annoyed by that, but for his part, Josh is in agreement. Crashing the family Christmas had been uncomfortable enough, but at least it was an event that happened every year. Something that happens only once in a lifetime, especially something so personal, isn’t one where he should be lurking in the shadows.

However, stating as much gets him an approving nod from Goodnight, matching surprised looks from Sam and Billy, and an outright pout from Ale. “You wouldn’t be lurking,” he grumbles. “You would be doing - whatever the partners of favorite uncles do.”

“You’re the kid’s only uncle,” Josh points out dryly, aware that Sandro’s only sibling is an unmarried sister. “I don’t think you get to declare yourself her favorite just because of that.”

Ale grins. “That’s the difference between you and I, Joshua, because from where I’m standing it makes me her favorite by default.”

“And also least favorite by that logic,” Sam points out. He shrugs when Ale shoots him a dirty look. “I’m just saying.”

“Anyway,” Ale stresses. “You would not be lurking, and I see no reason why you shouldn’t be invited too.”

“Because your mother said so,” Goodnight cuts in smoothly. Turning in his seat, he shifts to look at Josh, for once appearing the tiniest bit apologetic at having to pass on one of Maria’s orders. “Sorry, Joshua, but she’s afraid of what message your presence might send to the public.”

Ale makes a noise that’s something along the line of “feh”, which Goodnight studiously ignores. “The thing is,” he continues on, “Her Majesty has in fact suggested that we might want to start sowing the seeds for your and Alejandro’s inevitable break up now.”

“... okay.” Josh says, figuring that’s a safe enough response; one that makes him sound intrigued, while at the same time not revealing the sudden tightening in his chest. They’re two thirds of the way through this charade already, it’s going to have to end at some point. “How do you mean?”

“He means that we can make keeping you away look like a sign that there’s trouble in paradise,” Billy says. He doesn’t so much as twitch when everyone turns to look at him. “What? I’ve been married to him for ten years, I know where he’s going with this.”

“Right you are, cher,” Goodnight says quickly. “We don’t have to frame it like a deliberate snub, or anything of that nature. Just a few subtle murmurs about a Christening being a lot of commitment, maybe too much, and the media machine will do plenty more for us.”

“That makes sense,” Sam agrees from his spot next to Billy. “If we make it seem like they want different things from a relationship, or at least have different end goals, we can play the break up as the pair of them being just too different.”

Josh rolls his eyes. “On the one hand, we’re both right here, so it’d be nice if you wouldn’t talk about us like we’re not. On the other,” he adds when Sam rolls his eyes right back, “I guess I can see the logic in what you’re saying.” Even if he doesn’t like it, he thinks silently.

“Meaning you don’t have a problem with the idea,” Goodnight decides. “Excellent. In that case, I’ll let the queen know everyone’s onboard. Unless someone has an objection?”

“I do. Can we not turn my niece into a pawn in this plan?” Ale asks, and Josh doesn’t think anyone misses the way his tone is now sharper than normal. “In fact, could we, just for once, forget about the plan entirely? There’s a baby back home who’s waiting to see me, and I’d rather not have our first meeting be tainted by being told all the ways we can use her birth to our advantage to cover up my mistakes.”

From his place off to the side, Josh can’t help but feel impressed, maybe even a little proud with the way Ale chooses to stare Goodnight down. It’s clear he’s serious in what he’s saying, and it doesn’t look like he’s about to back off on this one.

Which the PR rep must get. Sighing, Goodnight raises his hands in surrender. “Fine, Alejandro. If that’s what you want, I won’t stop you. That doesn’t mean that your mother is wrong, though,” he adds, apparently unwilling to let the matter rest entirely. “The right kind of hints to the media here could start setting the eventual breakup in motion.”

“I. Don’t. Care.” Obviously running out of patience, Ale’s voice is clipped tighter than Josh has ever heard it, showing no trace of the polite way of speaking he normally uses with his underlings, or his very recent exuberance . “And you can tell her majesty I said so.”

Goodnight’s expression goes completely poleaxed, but any attempt at a counter he might try is rendered ultimately useless when Ale abruptly turns on one heel and stalks off down the hallway. The heavy slam of the bedroom door behind him, also serves to effectively end the conversation.

“Well, fuck.” Billy says flatly after several long moments of awkward silence have passed. “Didn’t see that coming.”

Unexpected, Goodnight lets out a ragged laugh. “Neither did I,” he says, shooting his husband a fond look. Then he turns back to look in the direction Ale has disappeared and he sobers. “Of all times for him to finally dig his heels in on something. Why did it have to be now?”

“I can’t imagine any of us has an answer for that one,” Sam says, sounding tired. “Shall we draw straws to see who gets to tell the queen about this?”

“Please,” Goodnight sighs, “we all know that job is going to fall to me. First, however, I should probably make sure her offspring isn’t about to do something woefully stupid as well. If I’m not back in ten minutes, send the national guard. Technically, we have them on retainer.”

“No,” Josh says, and the way all three men’s heads turn in surprise makes him wonder if they hadn’t forgotten he was here. Ignoring this, he pushes away from the wall he’s now leaning against, straightening to his full height.

“The queen’s your job, Robicheaux,” he decides, “but Ale’s mine. I’ll talk to him.”

“Let him go, Goody,” Billy says, and Goodnight, who already has his mouth half open to protest, closes it with an abrupt snap as he turns to look at the other man.

Who nods. “Seriously,” he adds. “Alejandro’s not going to listen to anyone who seems like they’re about to give him a lecture. Let Faraday try.”

Goodnight makes a face that suggests Billy’s taken leave of his senses, but then surprises everybody by backing down. “Fine. I suppose this will give me more time to figure out how to break this to Maria. Just don’t fuck it up!”

This last bit is snapped at Josh, who offers up a nod before heading towards the hall Ale had previously vanished down. Figuring it won’t do any good, he doesn’t bother to knock, and instead just shoves the door open.

“Go. Away.” His voice muffled due to the fact that he’s lying on his bed with a pillow flung over his face, Ale’s tone is nevertheless sharp enough to indicate that his ire has in no way decreased. If anything, he sounds even more pissed off.

Ignoring him, Josh steps far enough into the room that he can close the door behind himself. Never having been in here before, he also takes a moment to glance around and take a good look.

“You know,” he says thoughtfully, “for some reason I expected you to be messy.” His own room back in his apartment is cluttered, containing everything from clothes to tools to even the odd car part, but Ale’s is neat and tidy. “Must be that royal upbringing of yours.”

Silence emanates from behind him, but when Josh turns back around he finds that Ale has propped himself up on one elbow, and is watching him shrewdly. “Oh good, you’re awake.”

“What are you doing in here?” Ale asks. “If Goody sent you because he thinks I’ll be less likely to throw things at someone who isn’t him, I can’t promise he’s right. I am not in the mood for a lecture.”

“Name one time I’ve ever lectured you,” Josh says, unable keep from grinning triumphantly when Ale shrugs in admission. “That’s what I thought. No, I came to see if you were alright. Though, given that you’re apparently trying to smother yourself, I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess that you’re not.”

Snorting, Ale takes the pillow he’d previously had planted over his face, and stuffs it behind him. “Why wouldn’t I be alright?” He asks. “So what if my mother wants to use what should be a happy occasion as part of her machinations to keep my latest family embarrassment under wraps. It’s not like there’s anything new there.”

“She’ll probably do it anyway,” he continues on, speaking too fast for Josh to get a word in edgewise. “Never mind that I don’t agree with it, I can’t actually stop her if she tells Goody to run the story.”

“I think he might surprise you there,” Josh says, shrugging when Ale cranes his neck to look at him. “Call it a gut feeling. I think Goody’s going to back you on this one.”

“Well,” Ale says stiffly. “Won’t that be a pleasant surprise.”

“Mhm.” Deciding that this situation needs a different track than the one he’d first been considering, Josh forgoes dropping into the overstuffed armchair near the window, and instead flops down onto the bed. “Shift yourself, your majesty. I need some room.”

“What are you doing?” Eyeing Josh suspiciously, Ale nevertheless shuffles far enough to the side that he’s able to lay down beside him. “Joshua?”

“This bed is really comfy,” Josh says in reply. “Big too,” he adds, stretching out and curling his arms behind his head. “I’m kind of jealous.”

“Joshua,” Ale says sharply, his tone suggesting he’s had enough. “Guero, I am in an admittedly terrible mood, and I don’t want to play games now. What do you want?”

“Pics.” Josh says simply, grinning when Ale looks at him in confusion. “Pictures,” he clarifies when said confusion shows no sign of going away. “You can’t tell me nobody’s sent you shots of the little tyke by now. I won’t believe you.”

“I - well, no. I mean, yes - somebody has,” Ale replies. Still looking uncertain, he pulls his phone out of the pocket of the jeans he’s wearing, and begins to fiddle with it absently, paying more attention to Josh than he is to it. “You really want to see?”

Josh has honestly never been much of a kid person, and baby pictures aren’t exactly his thing. On the other hand, Ale’s expression is changing again, morphing into something almost hopeful, maybe even grateful, and Josh doesn’t have it in him to say no. Instead, he prods Ale’s shoulder. “Show me.”

Apparently Ale doesn’t have to be told a third time. Smiling in a way that Josh knows him well enough to tell means he’s genuinely pleased, he holds up the phone and starts scrolling through the truly stunning number of photos he’s already amassed.

“She’s called Sofia,” he says proudly, like he’s in any way responsible for the creation of the tiny, blanket wrapped bundle Josh is now staring at. “Sofia Alejandra Marissa,” he laughs. “The name is bigger than she is right now, but then they always are.”

Josh nods, figuring it’s probably just a royalty thing. Ale’s own name can’t fit on most pages on the rare occasions he has to write it all out. He cocks his head to the side, still studying the last picture.

“She’s cute,” he decides finally, grunting when Ale digs an irritated elbow into his sternum. “Ow!”

“She’s more than cute,” Ale declares, pulling the phone towards his chest and cradling it there protectively. “She’s lovely.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a proud uncle. I got it.” Rubbing theatrically at his stomach, Josh rolls over onto his side. “When do you leave to go see her?”

Shutting off his phone, Ale shrugs as he places it on the table beside him for safe keeping. Then he too turns over on his side, mirroring Josh’s position. “I’m not sure. Soon, probably. There will be a formal birth announcement in a matter of hours, and she’ll be presented to the public within a few days. I’ll be expected to be there for that.”

Josh rolls his eyes at the very notion of a baby needing a public appearance, but purposefully keeps his mouth shut. Ale’s family already does a ton of things he doesn’t understand, this is simply one more to add to the list. “What do you want me to do?”

“Whatever you want?” Ale replies. “I’ll go home alone to avoid any drama, but we still have four months left on our timeline. I’ll be back; likely after only a couple of weeks.”

Josh considers this, but quickly decides there’s nothing for him to protest where it’s concerned. “Then I guess I’ll wait for you.”

For some reason that makes Ale laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners while his shoulders shake with mirth. Not offended, Josh finds himself feeling pleased that he could help.

There’s a knock at the door not long after this, and it’s pushed open before either of them can think to move, revealing one Goodnight Robicheaux standing there. Initially looking fine, his expression quickly turns aghast.

“Oh no,” he yelps. “No canoodling!”

Not for the first time, Josh wonders if Goodnight isn’t someone’s eighty year old grandmother reincarnated. Most days he seems to be about one pair of knitting needles and a set of pearls to clutch away from it. “Nothing is happening,” he groans. “Calm down, christ.”

Goodnight bristles at his tone, but that’s nothing compared to the way he sputters when Ale - still chuckling - lobs a throw pillow towards him, and brains him right in the face with it. “Highness!”

“You deserved it,” Ale tells him, completely unrepentant. “Now, what do you want?”

“For you two to leave enough space between you for Jesus,” Goodnight retorts, and he’s not at all impressed when that sets both Ale and Josh laughing hysterically. “Yes, yes, highly amusing, I’m sure. Alejandro, once you can breathe again, I’ve got a flight itinerary for you to look at, and I’d like to go over it sooner rather than later. You’re leaving tomorrow.”

Waving a hand weakly in acknowledgement, Ale’s still laughing when Goodnight shuts the door behind himself with a huff. “That man - is somehow so very suited to this job. It’s almost frightening.”

“I’ll take your word on it.” His own guffaws finally fading, Josh leans back against the pillows for a moment, but then cranes his neck around to look at Ale. “You feeling any better?”

Ale’s face is half buried in his one remaining pillow at this point, but what Josh can see of it appears pleased. “Yes, Joshua. Thank you.”

Josh resolutely does not go all melty inside at those words, and stares resolutely at the ceiling instead.

*****

As promised, Ale flies out the next day. Against his better judgement, Josh stops by the condo to see him off, although he decides against going all the way to the airport with him.

“S’gonna be weird going so long without seeing you,” he muses while they wait for the go ahead to move for the car. Aside from Billy, who’s stationed outside by door, they’re the only ones left upstairs. “I think I’m starting to get used to having you around.”

“Mhm,” Ale agrees. He’d been checking for an update on his phone, obviously anxious to get moving, but now he looks up and flashes Josh a bright grin. “I’ve gotten pretty used to being around,” he admits. “I like it here.”

Sternly telling himself that’s just Ale’s generally easygoing nature winning out, Josh refuses to read anything into those words. “Bet you’re still gonna be happy to be home though.”

Now Ale shrugs. “This time, certainly. I don’t think it’s much of a secret that I’m excited to meet the baby.”

“Uh, not really,” Josh replies. “I mean, you’ve dropped one or two hints.”

Ale cuffs him playfully in the back of the head, but there’s no real force behind it. “I like kids,” he says primly, “and Sofia is family, so I like her even better than most.”

Josh idly wonders if that means Ale wants children of his own someday, but that seems like the opposite of a safe train of thought to follow down. Instead, he shrugs. “I’m sure she’ll love you, and not just because you’ve bought her enough presents for an entire army of babies.”

“I keep telling you, I haven’t got anything more than what most people will send,” Ale complains, his mouth twisting into a pout. “Why do you keep making fun of me?”

“Because you make it really easy,” Josh says, snickering when the pout gets worse. He reaches over to give the other man a light smack on the shoulder. “Calm down, your majesty, you know I’m only teasing.”

Ale sniffs hautily, but there’s a sparkle in his eyes that Josh spots easily enough. “Need I remind you that you’re sending a present too?”

“Got to do that,” Josh says staunchly. He’s not actually sure the large stuffed dog he’d obtained and then demanded Ale take back with him is appropriate, but he’d have felt like a heel if he hadn’t sent anything. “My Ma’d throttle me from beyond the grave if I got her nothing.”

“I’m sure Sofia will love it,” Ale replies solemnly. “Also, Sam just texted, so I think I have to get going.”

“Sounds good,” Josh tells him. He gives Ale’s shoulder another pat, this one much more gentle than the last. “My car’s in the visitor’s parking, so I’ll walk down with you.”

They meet Billy in the hallway, who nods and falls into step behind them as they tromp towards the elevator. As usual, the taciturn bodyguard doesn’t add a lot to the conversation, but nor does he look as annoyed as usual. Josh wonders if he’s excited to be going home for a stretch. The itinerary Goodnight has provided is set to run for a full three weeks, after which Ale will be back in California to begin running down the final three months of their timeline.

“What will you get up to while I’m gone?” Ale asks suddenly. “Hopefully nothing too crazy.”

“Actually, I was considering all the unsupervised chats I could have with the media,” Josh drawls. “I’m kidding,” he adds when Billy’s shoulders visibly tense. “Nah, I’m probably just going to work and occasionally hang out with Red. Nothing fancy.”

“And you seemed like such a bad boy the night we met,” Ale laments, grinning when the elevators stops and they can step out into the parking lot. “So much for that image.”

Josh shrugs, and very pointedly does not mention how he’s been on his best behaviour these past several months. He can see Goodnight standing next to Ale’s ride, and that kind of talk always gets him glared at.

“You’ll let me know that you got in alright?” He asks once everyone is in the car who should be. “If something bad happens, I don’t want to find out from the news.”

“I will,” Ale promises, and Josh stands back to let the car door close. “See you in three weeks.”

“Right. Yeah. Three weeks.” Josh watches the dark SUV as it drives towards the exit. Then he sighs, feeling off centre, and heads in the direction of his own car.

*****

Three weeks turn out to somehow pass both quickly and slowly at the same time. On the one hand, Josh is able to catch up on some things at the garage he’s been neglecting, and he spends more time with Red and Emma than he has in a while. On the other, he finds himself missing Ale.

“I mean, it’s not just me,” he’s quick to say when he accidentally trips up and mentions this to Emma during an impromptu coffee date. “Jack’s been moping around the apartment ever since he left. I guess we’ve just both gotten used to him.”

“...sure,” Emma replies, giving him a look that’s skeptical at best. Her mouth works like she’s about to comment further, but Josh can tell the exact moment when she decides not to press. “Speaking of your situation, that reminds me, did I tell you about the absolutely ludicrous separation agreement I recently finished negotiating?”

Josh gives her a flat look over the room of his coffee cup, glad that the cafe she’s dragged him to is largely unpopulated at this time of day. “You’re not supposed to tell me those details,” he says primly. “I’ve learned all about privileged information lately.”

“I’ll bet you have,” she says snidely. “But I’m not talking specifics here, only vague details about a truly ridiculous custody arrangement for a thirteen year old teacup poodle.”

Josh blinks, honestly intrigued. “You have my attention.”

“Somehow I though I might,” Emma says dryly. Grinning, she then launches into a story about the unnamed poodle and its week on/week off visitation with each of its owners.

Josh sits back in his chair, and sips occasionally at his drink. As always, Emma’s non-specific divorce stories are a hoot, but this time he can’t help but think of something else.

“This is going to be Ale and me someday, isn’t it?” He asks, interrupting her mid-sentence during a description of which dog parks the owners are and are not allowed to visit.

She pauses, and her mouth curves into a frown at his serious expression. “How do you mean?” She asks carefully.

Josh shrugs in return. Suddenly not wanting to meet her gaze, he stares into the murky depths of his coffee instead. He thinks there might be too much cream in it.

Unfortunately, Emma’s as good as Red at getting him to talk when he doesn’t want to. The only difference is that, where Red will simply wait him out, she takes a more direct approach. Meaning she kicks him under the table. “Josh!”

Wincing, he reaches down to rub theatrically at his shin, but stops when he catches sight of her glare. “It’s just,” he starts, trying to explain his recent train of thought. “Somebody somewhere is going to get to draw up this kind of thing for us, and we’re gonna become the butt of that lawyer’s coffee jokes.”

Emma makes a face at him. “It might not be quite like that?” She tries, clearly at least aiming to be comforting. “Whoever deals with your situation is going to be faced with the kind of non-disclosure contract most people only dream about it.”

“It’ll still get out,” Josh insists. “Somewhere, somehow. Even if our names are never actually attached to it.”

“Maybe,” Emma admits, because at least where her friends are concerned, she’s honest to a fault. “You’re doing good so far, though, so who knows?”

“Yeah. Right.” Draining the last of his coffee, Josh sets the cup back down on the table and slumps in his seat. “I miss Ale,” he decides, and then resolutely pretends those words didn’t come out of his mouth.

Frowning once again, Emma doesn’t answer.

*****

The day Ale’s due to fly back into California, Josh gets a text with a travel itinerary attached. Based on what he can see, Ale’s going to be in transit for practically the entire day, eventually getting in at around nine in the evening. Not envying him at all, Josh shoots him a message back saying he’ll see him after he’s had a chance to get some sleep.

Ale doesn’t really respond to that - basically sends the textual equivalent of a distracted hum - but Josh figures he’s busy trying to get ready to leave. Not to mention forcing himself to say goodbye to Sofia.

He casually mentions as much to Red that morning while they’re opening up the garage. “Honestly, if it wouldn’t cause an international incident, I figure he might try to take her back with him.” Snickering as he pictures Ale trying to stow the baby away in a suitcase, he shakes his head. “I wouldn’t have thought he was the maternal type.”

“You mean paternal,” Red mutters from where he’s sorting through a toolbox, clearly looking for a specific item. Judging by the irritated look on his face, he’s not having any luck finding it.

“Whatever,” Josh replies. Still chuckling to himself, he steps back to eye his own work station critically, hoping he’s not missing anything too. “I just think it’s funny what a big fuss he’s making over her. It’s cute.”

“Cute,” Red echoes, and out of the corner of his eye, Josh sees him straighten up from his crouch, apparently having given up on his search. “Please tell me I heard that wrong.”

“Why?” Josh asks, curious. “It is. He adores the kid. I’ve been getting pictures nonstop ever since he left. He’s probably gonna go into withdrawal once he’s back here. Maybe her mother can bring her for a visit,” he muses.

“I think her mother has enough on her plate already,” Red informs him. Then he straightens his shoulders, giving Josh a look that suggests he’s done something he shouldn’t have. Although in this particular moment he has no idea what that could be.

“That’s actually something I’ve been meaning to talk about,” he starts. “Or, well, kind of anyway. How do you feel about grabbing a drink tonight? Just the two of us?”

Unsure of why talking about Ale’s niece made him remember he wanted to go for a drink, Josh shrugs. “Sure? Ale’s going to be a jet lagged mess when he gets off that plane, so I’m not planning to go see him until at least tomorrow. Might not go over for a couple of days, actually.”

“... right,” Red says. “Anyway, drinks tonight? At the usual time?”

“Works for me,” Josh tells him. Stepping carefully around Jack where he’s sprawled in the spot that’s been designated as ‘his’ since they’ve started letting him the garage, he moves to go open the main doors. At the same time, he shoots Ale a quick text about the evening’s plans, just on the off chance he’s looking for him later.

He doesn’t get a reply, but merely chalks that up to the other man being busy travelling.

*****

Aside from a couple of texts letting him know he’s safely reached each of his stopovers, Josh doesn’t hear much from Ale for the rest of the day. He finds that a little odd since Ale’s the chatty type, and the long flights are probably boring him, but he’s got his own work to do, meaning the lack of distraction is probably for the best.

The garage is still the busiest it’s ever been - Josh’s newfound celebrity status having drawn a hefty crowd of people who want to see him. Given that he gets to take their money in response, he figures it’s a fair enough trade.

He could do without the reporters that still have a tendency to flock to his door, but at almost nine months old, the story’s reached a point where the crowd has considerably thinned. Some days they don’t see anyone at all. As such, even that’s become less of an inconvenience.

All told, it’s a good day to spend doing the job he loves, and by the time he and Red are ready to shut down for the night, he figures he’s earned the beer that’s waiting for him. Swapping a quick promise with Red to meet up in an hour or two, he heads upstairs to try and clean away some of the grime left by a day of taking cars apart and putting them back together.

There are a number of local watering holes that Josh has offered his patronage over the years, but Red has already suggested they hit up their favorite tonight, which he has no problem with. He’s been going there less than usual lately thanks to his weird schedule, and part of him misses it.

Red beats him there, which isn’t really a surprise. Josh is perpetually late to all things when he doesn’t have the likes of Goodnight Robicheaux directing him where to go. He barely bats an eye when Josh slides into the booth he’s chosen, merely shoves the drinks menu his way even though they both know he doesn’t need it.

So too does the waitress, who arrives with a bottle and a glass for each of them. She shoots Josh a flirty smile that for once he doesn’t return, and then bustles off to a table a little ways away, leaving them to their own devices.

Josh pops the lid off his bottle, and knocks back a hearty swig. Then he sits back in the booth with a satisfied smile, gesturing to Red with the beer still held in his hand. “This,” he decides, “was a good idea.”

“I’ve been known to have them,” Red says dryly. He watches as Josh sets his bottle down and begins shrugging out of his jacket, snickering when he gets an arm stuck for a few moments. “You really are hopeless sometimes, aren’t you?”

“Only sometimes?” Josh asks with a grin. “And here was me thinking you figured I was a perpetual lost cause.”

“In my defence, you do give me plenty of ammunition.”

Josh pouts as Red starts snickering again, but his heart’s not really in it. Truth be told, he has gotten himself into some pretty impressive scrapes over the years, and this latest one is more impressive than most.

“I didn’t come here to be picked on,” he declares, retrieving his beer. “Just for that you’re paying for the first round.”

“Cheap bastard,” Red counters. “You’re the one with the rich ... whatever the hell he is to you at this point. I don’t even know.”

Josh snorts. “He’s just Ale,” he says, like that’s any sort of explanation whatsoever.

“Mmm,” Red hums thoughtfully while starting to pick at the label of his own untouched beer. Josh suspects he’s got something on his mind, but knows that prodding is likely to make him clam up rather than be of any use. “Right.”

Still not willingly to press, Josh brings up something he’s been meaning to discuss about the garage. It works, setting Red’s shoulders at ease, and they wind up talking shop for a good hour, only being interrupted when the waitress occasionally stops by to check on them.

Before Josh knows it, a couple of hours have passed, and all of a sudden his phone is buzzing in his pocket. Confused when it keeps doing this, he pulls it out and sees that it’s Ale, and for some reason he’s calling instead of texting.

“D’you mind giving me a minute?” He asks Red, even as he’s already halfway out of the booth. “His highness is ringing, and he doesn’t usually do that.”

Red makes no move to stop him, but his expression sobers when Josh stands. “Sure,” he says. “I’ll wait here.”

Nodding distractedly, Josh shuffles towards the exit, wanting some privacy and a little more quiet. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping off the jet lag?” He asks without bothering to say hello. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you tonight.”

“I thought about not calling until tomorrow,” Ale admits, and Josh knows right away that something’s off. The two of them have talked a few times while Ale’s been away, and he’s never sounded like this. “But I don’t think it can wait.”

“Okay,” Josh says. He’s trying to keep calm, but a pit of worry has just lodged itself in his stomach, and is starting to gnaw at his insides. “What’s up?”

“Can you come over?” Ale asks, and the wrongness in his voice is getting less subtle by the moment. “I know you’re with Red tonight, and I’m sorry to ruin your plans, but - “

“It’s alright.” Not wanting to force Ale into stuttering out whatever’s got him upset over the phone, Josh cuts him off before he can try. “I hang out with Red all the time, you know that. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Ale’s fervent thank you does nothing to allay Josh’s concerns, so he heads right back to the booth to retrieve his jacket. “I’ve got to go,” he explains when Red looks at him in obvious surprise. “Something’s up with Ale, and I don’t think it’s good.”

Red’s expression shifts from confused to something Josh can’t parse out. Ordinarily that’d be cause for concern - despite Red’s generally implacable countenance, Josh himself hasn’t had much trouble reading him since the seventh grade - but right now all his attention is focused on gathering his things and getting out of here.

“Josh,” Red starts, visibly girding himself the way he does when he’s about to talk about something he doesn’t want to. “I’ve been meaning to mention ...”

“Can it wait? Sorry,” Josh adds when Red gives him an affronted look. He shrugs even as he continues tugging on his jacket and settling it into place. “It’s just - he didn’t say what was bothering him, but he’s never asked me to cut time with you or Emma short before, so I’m guessing it isn’t good.”

Red’s eyes narrow. “You think someone found out about - you know?”

“Shit, maybe. I don’t know?” Still fumbling with his jacket, Josh thinks this over. “I guess it’s possible,” he decides. “Only ...” He trails off, unable to come up with a way to phrase what he’s trying to say.

Shrugging, he gives Red one last apologetic look before heading for the exit. Digging his keys out of his pocket as he goes, he hits the unlock button as he approaches, and climbs in.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, he rests his hands on the steering wheel, his grip tightening automatically when he considers what’s going to happen if somebody has found out the truth. He can’t think of a worse possible scenario than to get this far into the game, only to have it spectacularly blow up in their faces when they’re practically at the finish line.

He barely remembers any of the drive to Ale’s condo, but he’s not surprised to find Sam waiting for him when he parks in his usual spot. “You’re back then,” he says, settling for discussing the mundane instead of the thousands of burning questions he has. “How was the trip?”

“Fine,” Sam says simply. “A little long.”

Presuming he’s referring to the flight to California, and not the time spent back in his homeland, Josh nods and brushes by him on his way to the elevator. He’s expecting Sam to follow him in, and therefore isn’t sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing when the bodyguard doesn’t.

He hits the button for the penthouse, and leans back against the railing as the elevator begins its long climb upwards. His thoughts are going about a mile a minute, with the most pervasive one being that he needs to get to Ale and make sure he’s alright. If the shit really is about to hit the fan, this is going to be so much worse for him than it is for Josh.

Lost in his thoughts the way he is, he almost misses it when the elevator comes to a stop. It’s only thanks to the way it dings merrily upon arrival that he even notices.

On the other hand, he most definitely notices the two hulking bodyguards at the end of the hall. Flanking the door to the condo on either side, they’re both standing so rigidly at attention, Josh is surprised they haven’t strained something. He also notes that both men are unfamiliar to him.

“Uh,” he says as he approaches, not having anything better. “Pretty sure I’m expected.”

“Chisolm paged us to say you were on your way up,” the one on the right informs him. His companion doesn’t move so much as a muscle. “You can go in.”

“...right.” His says, belatedly realizing that ‘Chisolm’ is probably Sam. He waits for the still silent guard to open the door, and then starts to shuffle past. “I guess I’ll just do that then.”

Once he’s inside, the door closes behind him with a click that shouldn’t be nearly as ominous as it is. Unzipping his jacket so that he can hang it up, he calls out for Ale, wondering where the hell the other man is.

He’s not left waiting long. In fact, he’s just hung his jacket up on one of the pegs lining the wall, when Ale rounds a corner into the foyer. Josh looks him up and down quickly, deciding he doesn’t like what he sees.

“What is it?” He asks, or starts to anyway. His words are abruptly cut off when Ale doesn’t bother stopping, and instead comes forward to wrap his arms around Josh’s shoulders in a tight hug.

“Heh, missed you too, big guy,” Josh says weakly. Trying to play this off like it’s nothing, like he can’t feel the lines of tension in Ale’s body where they’re pressed together, he pats him awkwardly on the back, not knowing what else to do.

“Okay,” he decides when the hug shows no sign of stopping. “I know we haven’t seen each other in a while, but I think you need to tell me what’s going on now. What’s wrong?”

Sighing, Ale pulls back with a shrug. “I - “ he frowns and shrugs again, looking so weary that Josh feels something clench in his chest. “I may as well just show you.”

“Okay,” Josh agrees, because he can do that. He can play a game of show and tell if it’ll help ease Ale into whatever point he needs to get across. “Is it something bad?”

Ale shrugs a third time.

Figuring he’s not going to get a better answer, Josh allows himself to be led into the condo, his thoughts getting more and more out of control as he goes. Then they hit the living room, and he stops short when he sees they’re not alone.

“Joshua,” Maria says flatly. “How lovely to see you again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next - Vas embraces the concept of the grand gesture, and reactions are mixed.


	6. Chapter 6

Josh blinks, half convinced he’s hallucinating. He hadn’t had enough to drink at the bar for that to be throwing him off, so it’s got to be something else. There’s no way Ale’s mother is here in California.

Except, no amount of blinking seems to be making the mirage go away. Maria’s still there each time he opens his eyes, sitting on the couch with her back ramrod straight and a sour expression on her face.

“Um,” he says finally, forced to admit that she’s real. “Hi?”

Apparently his weak attempt at a greeting does little for her, at least if the way her grimace remains firmly in place is anything to go by. Shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, he finds himself wishing that he hadn’t taken off his coat. It’d be nice if he could hide his twitching hands in its pockets right about now.

Maria continues watching him for several long moments, and then she huffs a harsh breath out through her nose. “I suppose you’re a little surprised to see me,” she says, her posture relaxing the merest fraction of an inch. “Truth be told, this is something of a spur of the moment visit.”

“... okay?” Josh tries, because, really, what else is he supposed to say to that. “Uh, is something wrong?”

Ale makes a derisive sound from somewhere behind him, and Josh quite frankly doesn’t have words to describe the look Maria shoots him. All he knows is that if his mother had ever looked at him like that, he’d have gone bolting for the hills at the first opportunity.

“Not wrong per se,” Maria says icily. Josh suspects she’s just made a very deliberate choice not to call out her son, but he has no idea if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. “I guess you could say I’m here to get a better idea of how things are progressing.”

Bad thing, it’s definitely a bad thing. Maria gives Ale another look that implies she is seriously pissed off about something, and Josh has an abrupt urge to be literally anywhere else other than this room. He thinks he might be about to get caught in a crossfire between mother and child; something he can’t imagine ending well for anybody.

Silence stretches on for longer than is comfortable, before Maria eventually sighs. “Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to spring this on you without warning. I’m afraid it’s been a very long day. It’s possible I’m not thinking as clearly as I should be.”

“It’s okay?” Josh tries, wondering what else he might possibly say. Where Maria chooses to spend her time isn’t something he has any control over - no matter how much he might wish otherwise.

Maria simply nods, however, and then she climbs to her feet. “It’s late,” she declares, “and I will be here for some time, so you and I will have plenty of chances to talk. Given that, I think I should go to bed.”

“Good night?” Wishing he sounded like he had any clue as to what’s happening, Josh watches as she strides towards the foyer, finding himself wondering somewhat absurdly why she’s not going to one of the bedrooms down the hall.

“She’s staying in a hotel,” Ale says when Josh asks him as much in hushed tones. “Further adding to the security nightmare this trip has created. I’m guessing she thinks we’ll fight if we’re forced into close quarters.” He crosses his arms over his chest now, and frowns as he watches the door close behind his mother.

“Ale, what the _fuck_?” Josh hisses as soon as she’s gone. “Why is she here?”

“Because she’s mad at me,” Ale retorts, looking half annoyed and half resigned. “And because she’s paranoid that I won’t handle this the way she wants. She isn’t thinking clearly.”

“Truth be told, I’m not doing so hot there myself,” Josh replies, still shaken from the unexpected encounter. “How do you figure she’s off?”

“Easy,” Ale says, following the word up with a tired shrug. “This trip? It is completely spur of the moment, like she said. She gave me no indication she planned to follow me back, and no one knew her intentions until yesterday morning.”

“Do you know how much planning usually goes into a head of state travelling outside the country?” He asks harshly. “Goody just about had an aneurysm when she told him what she wanted done. He’s probably still curled up somewhere hoping this is all some sort of fever dream. No one outside of us knows she’s here, thank god, but whether or not that will last?” Another shrug. “Who knows?”

“Fuck.” Breathing heavily, Josh stalks past Ale, so that he can sag into the larger of the two couches located in the living room. “Fucking fuck. Okay, what do we do about this?”

“You’re asking me?” Ale asks, his voice coming out more shrill than normal. “Why do you think I wanted you to come over here this late? For fun? I have no idea how to react to this!”

“And you think I do?” Josh asks incredulously. “Take this however you please, but I was kind of banking on never having to see the woman again after Christmas.”

Ale has the audacity to look hurt by him saying as much. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, like he’s trying to figure out what to say, and then simply folds himself down into the couch next to Josh. “I’m sorry.”

Sighing, Josh stretches out a hand to pat him haphazardly on the shoulder. “Whatever,” he says, figuring that of all the people he could vent his frustrations too, Ale might not actually be a great choice under the circumstances. “I want a drink.”

“So do I,” Ale agrees. “And a smoke, and possibly hallucinogenic drugs. This is not at all the kind of homecoming I was expecting.”

It occurs to Josh that, where usually Ale is the more proactive of the two of them, for once he seems intent on wallowing in his discontent at this latest wrench thrown in their lives. Realizing that means it’s up to him to look on the bright side of things, and not particularly happy about it, he straightens in his seat.

“Alright,” he tries. “What’s the worst thing that can happen on account of her being here? I mean, really. Let’s break it down.”

“Do you want the short answer or the long?” Ale grunts, burying his face in his hands. “Nothing good will come of this. Of that much I’m certain.”

Josh is pretty sure of that himself, but he decides against saying so. Instead, he gives Ale a light smack upside the head, then shifts to poke him repeatedly in the shoulder until he peeks out from between his fingers.

“Better,” he says when he notices that Ale is glaring at him. “You can’t sulk about this, sweetheart. It’s going to be just as useless as me panicking about it.”

“Stop trying to be logical, and go back to wanting to fix it with booze,” Ale doesn’t quite snap. “I can’t handle logic right now. My mother is here, she is angry, and she’s going to kill us both if we give her even the slightest hint that we’re not going to follow the remainder of her plan to the letter. I put my foot down about using Sofia in this mess, and she’s going to make me pay for it.”

“It’s just going to get worse too,” he adds grimly. “When she finds out about ... ugh.” Stopping mid-sentence, Ale covers his face with his hands again, and refuses to come out no matter how much Josh jabs at him.

“What? When she finds out about what?” Josh demands. “Did you do something I don’t know about? Did you have an affair while you were back home? Am I about to become a media laughingstock for an entirely different reason?”

He’s joking when he says it, of course, which means he’s not expecting it when Ale jerks his head up and pins him with a horrified stare.

“Of course not,” he barks, narrowly avoiding clocking Josh in the chin when he gestures wildly with one hand. “I would never!”

“I know, Ale I know.” Wishing he’d never said anything, Josh reaches out to catch the flailing limb before he really does get hit. “I was kidding, I promise. I know you better than that.”

“Oh,” Ale says. “Right. I knew that.”

“Sure you did,” Josh agrees. “Just like,” he adds pointedly, “I know you’d never cheat on someone. Even during a fake relationship like ours.”

“It’s not fake,” Ale snaps, only to immediately backtrack while Josh is still stuttering in surprise. “I mean, yes, obviously some parts of it are fake, but not all, right? We - we’re friends if nothing else, yes?”

“Yeah,” Josh says, rushing to agree even as he continues reeling from the surprise. “Of course we’re - friends. Good friends. How could we not be at this point?”

“Exactly,” Ale nods. “We see each other all the time, so we were bound to either like each other or hate each other. There had to be some kind of a relationship develop.”

“Sure?” Josh says. Ale sounds like he’s trying to talk himself into something, or maybe out of it, but whether or not he’s succeeding is anybody’s guess. “We’re friends Ale. I definitely like you.”

 _Possibly a little too much_ , a traitorous voice in the back of his brain chooses this exact moment to point out. He sternly tells it to fuck off, and goes back to trying to get Ale to calm down.

“Come on, big guy,” he says, patting the prince’s shoulder heavily. “This isn’t the end of the world, and everything’s going to be fine. Yeah, I could’ve done without the mini heart attack seeing your mom here gave me, but we’re good. We haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Well,” he adds with a faint grin, “not for about nine months now anyway.”

Ale’s answering laugh sounds genuine for all that it’s weak. “I dare you to say that to my mother to her face.”

Josh thinks back to Maria’s expression right before she’s exited the condo, and he’s only half joking when he shudders. “I think I’ll pass,” he decides, “and if it’s all the same to you, I’m gonna do my best to stay out of her way.”

*****

“So you’re saying the queen is worried you and Ale are going to fuck up the rest of the plan somehow, so much so that she’s come here in person to keep an eye on things?” Red gazes at him from over the top of the engine they’re both taking apart. “You know what? I’m almost impressed.”

“What?” Straightening a little out of his hunched position, Josh narrowly avoids whacking his head on the hood of the car. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Red shrugs as best as he’s able without climbing out from beneath the hood. “Well,” he says slowly, most of his attention focused on where he’s carefully probing at the engine with the tip of a screwdriver. “Unlike you, I’ve been paying attention whenever Emma talks about what she’s found out about the royal family. By all accounts, Maria’s next to impossible to rattle, but you and Ale have managed it.”

“That’s not impressive,” Josh growls. “That’s a disaster. And Ale’s trying not to show it, but he’s freaking out, which is making me freak out.”

“Everything makes you freak out,” Red says dismissively. “I’ve known you for twenty years, and you’ve been in a constant state of freaking out the entire time. This isn’t any different.”

Josh stares at him, unsure of if he should be offended or comforted. In the end he decides to go with the latter, since the main reason he’d told Red about this latest development was so that the other man might manage to make him feel better.

“I don’t think me upsetting the queen, or any queen for that matter, is a good thing,” he says. “I guess there’s really not much she can do to me in the long run, not without causing an even bigger headache for herself, but what if she takes it out on Ale?”

Now Red rolls his eyes. “Ale’s a big boy, Josh. He can handle mommy being mad at him. Especially given how often it seems to happen.”

“I’m not so sure he can,” Josh replies dubiously, recalling the flustered mess Ale has been back in the condo the night before. “Plus, he shouldn’t have to. He didn’t do anything wrong this time.”

“The fact that you have to qualify it with the words ‘this time’ is likely enough cause for concern,” Red points out. “Maybe he’s behaving himself now, but history’s not working in his favour.”

Part of Josh feels that nothing is working in Ale’s favour, but he keeps that bit to himself. Red’s giving him another one of those funny looks he’s been making since New Years, and he doesn’t want to add more fuel to the fire.

Telling himself that he’s not taking the coward’s way out, he ducks Red’s gaze and focuses on his work.

*****

Despite the fact that he’s supposed to be acting like everything is still the status quo, Josh finds himself avoiding the condo over the next while. It’s not that he doesn’t want to see Ale, he does, he’s just nervous about the possibility of running into his mother, so he’s keeping a low profile.

Then he finds himself working late in the garage one night, all alone, and turns around to come face to face with exactly the person he’s trying to avoid.

“Jesus Christ!” Josh yelps, and if he’s theatrically clutching at his heart with one hand, he figures he’s entitled given the repeated shocks he’s had to face over the past few days. “Do you have to keep sneaking up on me like this? How did you even get in here?”

Ignoring both of his questions, Maria lets her eyes rove around the shop, before alighting on a stack of upturned milk crates. Eyeing them critically for a moment, she proceeds to settle down on top of them, perching precariously in lieu of a better place to sit. “I need your help.”

“And I need less stress in my life,” Josh replies. Looking around for any sign of a security detail, he’s only partially surprised when he doesn’t find any. “But I doubt I’m gonna get it with you being here. What kind of help are we talking about?”

“I need you to convince my son to listen to reason where ending this disaster of a marriage is concerned,” she says flatly. “He was responding appropriately up until recently, and I need to get him back on track before anymore slip ups occur.”

“It wasn’t a slip up,” Josh disagrees. “He just didn’t like the idea of tainting Sofia’s birth is all.”

“I wasn’t particularly fond of it either,” Maria snaps, “but I never would have had to suggest it if Alejandro had behaved himself in the first place. I always expected that damned ‘party prince’ image of his to come back to haunt us, but even I couldn’t have predicted ... this.”

Josh doesn’t miss the way she stumbles over selecting her last word, and while most of him knows better than to say what he’s about to, the rest of him just doesn’t care. “Me,” he says firmly, catching her gaze and refusing to look away once he’s got it. “You mean you couldn’t have predicted me.”

To her credit, Maria makes no move to try and shift her eyes away. “Yes,” she admits. “That’s exactly what I mean. In the long run you may have turned out better than expected in light of the situation, but you are far from an ideal choice in a royal match - to say nothing of the circumstances that brought you into the picture.”

“Despite that, however,” she continues on while Josh is still trying to decide how offended he should be at her words, “Alejandro seems taken with you. More importantly, from the reports I’m getting he actually listens to you. Hence why I’m here.”

“I need you to make him see reason,” she says seriously. “We are on a schedule, and it’s time to start dropping the necessary hints that this relationship is nearing its end. Alejandro needs to understand that.”

“What makes you think he doesn’t?” Josh asks, honestly curious. “He didn’t want to start with the hints during the presentation and christening and whatever else, okay, I get that much, but he’s never said anything to me about not starting once he was back here.”

Maria gives him a frustrated look. “I can’t tell if you’re being truthful or deliberately obtuse,” she grits out. “Regardless of which one it is, Alejandro did not react well to my suggestions when I tried to discuss the situation with him at home. I don’t for one minute think he’s going to do what’s required, not so long as it’s me suggesting it anyway, and that’s where you come in. He will listen to you; at this point, maybe only you.”

Josh stares at her for an uncomfortable length of time, his gut churning, and his thoughts a jumbled mess as he tries to formulate a response. There’s so much he wants to say, so much he _shouldn’t_  say, but that he knows is going to find it’s way out whether it’s a good idea or not.

“Can I be honest with you?” He asks finally, already regretting the question as it leaves his mouth.

Maria inclines her head in silent permission, so he metaphorically girds his loins in preparation for what he’s about to do. “I think you’re probably a good queen,” he starts out slowly, “but as a mom you kind of suck.”

From her flummoxed expression he doubts she was expecting him to be quite that honest, but he soldiers on regardless. “You’re sitting here basically telling me you think your kid is a major fuck up, and that you should have expected something like this from him, and you’re just ... like, willfully ignoring so much shit.”

“It takes two to tango, lady,” he says flatly. “ _I_ was in that bar with him that night. _I_ bought the first drinks. _I_ was just as drunk as he was, and while we might not remember who’s idea the whole marriage bit was, _I_ was right there with it. Hell, my signature’s the first one on the paper. Trying to paint Ale as the guilty party here is really fucking unfair, especially when he’s trying to play by all your stupid fucking rules. He made one request to delay your timeline, one, and he had a damned good reason for doing it. Any other time he’s done exactly what’s been asked of him.”

“And as for him being the so-called ‘party prince’,” and here Josh holds up the most sarcastic set of air quotes he can manage as he continues talking right over her, “he likes to have fun, so what? He never hurts anybody, and, hell, maybe if you’d pay a little more attention to him, the way he so obviously wants you to, then he wouldn’t try so hard to get you to notice him.”

“Excuse me?” She barks, for once losing her placid veneer, and practically snarling at him. “Just who do you think you are?”

Josh shrugs, unconcerned now that he’s reached a turning point and chosen which road to go barrelling down. “I think I’m a guy who doesn’t have to tell you what you want to hear, and I’m also one who’s got the balls to do it. You’re the one who barged in here unannounced, and told me you needed my help. You don’t get to start bitching because I told you the truth.”

“I have spent way more time with Ale in the past couple of months than you have probably in years. I _know_  him. I may not know all the rules and protocols and what-the-fuck-ever, but I know _him_. I’m not so sure you can say the same thing.”

Maria’s well and truly angry now, he doesn’t have to be psychic to figure that out. Her face twisting into a scowl, she gets up off the crates and stalks towards him, only stopping once she’s a few inches away, so she can jab a finger in his chest. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she growls.

“You think after so little time you know my son? Know our family? Our history? Please,” she scoffs. “You know nothing. You have no understanding of the responsibilities we have, or the context of the world we live in. No, you just ignore our requests, and flaunt our traditions as things that don’t apply to you. Never mind the result your doing so might have for my son!”

“Maybe that’s true,” Josh agrees, well past the point of caring what this woman thinks of him. It’s not like they’re going to be in each other’s lives much longer, after all, so why not throw caution to the winds? “On the other hand, only one person in this conversation makes Ale miserable on the regular, and it ain’t me.”

The slap she gives him is unexpected to say the least, as is the force behind it. Not even remotely braced for the blow, Josh’s head snaps back as the sound echoes throughout the empty room, accompanied only by Maria’s harsh breathing.

Eyeing her warily, Josh brings tentative fingers to his lips, and isn’t surprised when they come away bloody. “Well,” he says, fighting down a sudden urge to laugh. “Looks like I touched a nerve.”

“You should go,” he adds, when her mouth works soundlessly. He suspects she’s even more surprised than he is that she’d actually hit him, but he’s also not that interested in finding out. “I think we’re done here.”

“For now, maybe,” she says icily. Drawing herself up to her full height, Josh can see the exact moment she puts her media persona back on; the one she uses to cover up what she’s really thinking. “I’ll see myself out.”

“You do that,” Josh tells her, but it’s a moot point. She’s already turning on one heel to stalk out of the room, the door not quite slamming behind her as she leaves.

“Yeah,” he murmurs as the sound of her footsteps fades away. “That probably could have gone better.”

*****

Even though he knows it’s a bad idea, Josh decides he can’t stay where he is after his confrontation with Maria. Worked up to the point that he’s probably not thinking clearly, he locks down the garage, and proceeds to head for the worst possible destination.

Ale’s hunched over the dining room table when Josh lets himself into the condo. He’s got a bunch of papers spread out over the surface, and seems to be studying them intently, chewing absently on his bottom lip while he pages through them.

“What’cha got there?” Josh asks curiously, tilting his head to try and get a better look.

Ale jerks up guiltily, whirling around to stare at Josh in surprise. “Guero,” he blurts, stepping to the side, almost as if he’s trying to shield Josh from the papers with his body, or maybe the other way around. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“No shit,” Josh says dryly, already feeling more at ease in the face of Ale and whatever antics he’s getting up to this time. “You oughta be more careful about that. A man of your stature could get in some pretty dicey situations if he’s not paying proper attention.”

The face Ale makes at this is quite impressive, as is the ensuing eye roll. “You sound like Sam,” he grumbles, his cheeks flushing slightly, “and that is not a compliment.”

“Wasn’t planning on taking it as one,” Josh says breezily. He shuffles to the side to try and see the papers again, blinking in surprise when Ale shuffles over right along with him. “There something here you don’t want me to see, honey?”

Ale snorts at the pet name, but continues to stand his ground. “It’s a ... project I’m working on,” he says stiffly. “And you’re not allowed to see it before it’s ready.”

“Oh come on!” Josh isn’t too proud to admit that he’s whining. He’s had a bad night, and he’d come here looking for the easy banter that always seemed to spring up between him and Ale, not whatever this is. “You can’t tell me that and expect me not to pick at it.”

Trying step around Ale, Josh is confused when the other man’s eyes suddenly widen, and he shoves himself away from the table, right into Josh’s personal space. “The hell are you doin’?” He blurts when Ale’s hands rise up to cup his face.

Ale’s expression is serious, downright angry, really, and he forces Josh’s head up slightly, his eyes narrowing as he does so. “What happened?” He snaps, his voice going low and dangerous in a way Josh has never heard before. “Who did this to you?”

“Who did what - oh.” Belatedly remembering his split lip, Josh grabs Ale’s hands to force them back. No way is he admitting that it’d been Maria who’d slapped him, which means he has to stop the touching right away before it makes him cave like an idiot.

“It’s nothing,” he says, thinking quickly. “An angry customer who got a little out of hand.”

Ale’s eyes widen in alarm. “One of your customer’s hit you?” He demands. “Was anyone else there? Did you call the police?”

“Of course not,” Josh says, batting at Ale’s hands when he tries to move in again. “Knock it off, would you? It was just a little disagreement, that’s all. I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding!” Ale protests, which Josh realizes is once again the case when he prods tentatively at his lip with his own fingers and feels the sting intensify. “At least let me clean it for you.”

Josh drops his fingers like he’s been burned. “You ain’t gotta do that,” he says, backing away like that might somehow help. Judging by the way Ale just keeps advancing on him, it doesn’t. “Seriously, I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” Ale grits out a second time, and Josh’s traitorous stomach flips at his protective tone. “It needs to be patched up.”

“It’s a split lip,” Josh points out reasonably, all while still trying to keep Ale’s hands off. “There’s no way to patch it up.”

Ale gives him a look that says they’ll see about that, and then pulls back to rest his hands on his hips. “If you let me clean it, I’ll show you your surprise,” he says slyly.

Josh blinks. “My surprise?” He repeats. He nods towards the table. “Whatever that is is for me?”

He gets a shrug in response. “Technically it’s for the neighbourhood, but you gave me the idea, and, well.” Here Ale makes a sheepish face. “Think of it as my way of saying thank you for all the crap you’ve had to deal with since I came into your life.”

Genuinely curious now, Josh steps around him, and moves in to stand at the table. It takes him a moment to realize what he’s looking at, but then he spots a photo of a very familiar looking building. “Ale,” he breathes. “What did you do?”

“I bought it,” Ale says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Then he too steps forward until they’re standing shoulder to shoulder, both of them staring down at the image of the rundown community centre. “It’s just been sitting there this whole time because nobody could be bothered to pay to either tear it down or fix it up. It didn’t cost that much.”

“Maybe not for you,” Josh murmurs. Tentatively, he reaches out a hand to spread around some of the other papers scattered about. He’d been right when he’d figured they were blueprints. “What are you going to do with it?”

“Bring it back,” Ale replies instantly. “It won’t be exactly the same as before, obviously. We’ll modernize it, maybe even expand it if the structure will allow for it. Plus I’d like to put in offices for a couple of full time counsellors. That was one thing it didn’t have before, and at risk youth deserve all the help they can get. I’m also thinking of including some kind of free meals program.”

“Jesus wept,” Josh hisses. He runs his eyes over the papers, practically able to see what Ale’s describing already. “Who’s going to pay to keep it running though? That kind of money - the city won’t fund it.”

“They’ll fund some. I already asked, and annual fundraisers can be run,” Ale tells him. “As for the rest,” he grins. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m kind of rich.”

“No,” Josh says now. It’s one thing for Ale to sink money into the centre as a one time deal to get it off the ground, but more than that is too much. “You can’t pay for it forever. That’s ridiculous.”

“Can too, and no it isn’t.” Ale replies, actually going so far as to stick his tongue out when Josh glowers at him. “It’s my money, Joshua,” he adds seriously. “I can do what I want with it.”

“Your mother isn’t going to like this,” Josh warns, which makes Ale wrinkle his nose in annoyance.

“Probably not,” he admits, his eyes going sad for a moment before he visibly gets ahold of himself. “On the other hand - this is the kind of project she always wants me to be getting involved in. Public relations and all that stuff. She won’t be able to stop me without looking like a complete hypocrite.” He’s quiet for a second, before asking. “Do you like it?”

“Do I -? Oh for fucksakes, come here.” Against his better judgement, Josh grabs him up in a bear hug before he can stop himself. “What do you think, you fucking idiot? Of course I do.”

Ale huffs out a surprised breath at Josh’s grip, but then holds back almost as tightly. “I’m glad,” he says.

“Yeah, yeah.” Realizing what he’s doing, Josh pushes him away quickly, blinking heavily for reasons that, if asked, he’ll swear relate to sudden onset allergies. “Fucking lunatic.”

“You know,” Ale says thoughtfully, “nobody else I know has ever sworn at me as much as you do. Not even Sam. Not even my _sisters_. Why do you suppose that is?”

“Because I’m not afraid to talk at you like you deserve,” Josh mutters, turning back to the plans for the new centre. “You’d probably be a better person if more people yelled at you.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Ale says dryly. Then he snaps his fingers. “Also, don’t think I’ve forgotten about your promise to let me clean that cut. Wait here, I’ll get a cloth.”

Josh cranes his neck to watch him go, but his attention is soon drawn back to the table and the papers it contains. No one’s ever done anything like this for him before, and with it comes the dawning realization of just how in over his head he really is.

*****

“I think I have a problem,” Josh admits. Doing so isn’t easy. In fact, it takes basically all the nerve he has, and he sags heavily in his chair once the words are out.

Emma arches an eyebrow at him over the rim of her coffee cup as she takes a sip. “You think?” She asks finally. “Josh, I hate to tell you this, but you had a royal wedding in a chapel in Vegas with possibly an Elvis impersonator as the officiant for all I know. If you’re only just realizing you have a problem now, then I haven’t been doing my job right.”

“For the last time, I’m not letting you process the divorce,” Josh tells her, hating the way his stomach clenches at the use of the word divorce. “And that’s not my problem. My problem is way, way bigger than that.”

He pauses until Emma gestures impatiently for him to continue, at which point he groans. “I think I’m in love with my damn husband.”

Emma’s just taken another sip of coffee, which she now promptly spits everywhere, spraying both herself and the desk resting in between them. If the situation weren’t so serious, it’d be one of the funniest things Josh has ever seen.

“You’re what?!” She sputters. “Josh, you can’t! He’s - he’s a prince!”

“Sorry?” Josh grunts. “Do you somehow think I missed that? I know I ain’t exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer, but at least give me some credit, Ems. Even I managed to catch that much.”

“I know, I know.” Setting her mug down, Emma roots around in her desk until she comes up with a Kleenex that she then uses to start mopping up her mess with. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just - he’s a prince!”

“Is there a reason you keep repeating that?” Josh asks. Somehow her shock is making him feel a little better, but not much. “I’m pretty sure we’ve both got the concept at this point.”

“Do we? Or do you, rather?” Tossing the dirty Kleenex in her garbage pail, Emma gives him a shrewd look. “Josh, Ale is - he’s a nice guy, I actually like him a lot, but this is never going to be permanent. It can’t be. The absolute best case scenario is the one you two are already working towards. The one where you quietly divorce and avoid a big media blow out. Asking for more than that is too much.”

“Ems, he bought the community centre.” Josh says softly. “You know, the one where Red and I met? He bought it, and he’s fixing it up to be better than ever. For me.”

“Oh, shit. Really? _Shit_.” At Josh’s nod, Emma moves her coffee mug further out of reach, and rests her elbows on top of her desk, sighing as she props her chin in her hands. “No wonder you’re falling in love with him. Who wouldn’t after something like that?”

“Right?” Josh demands, pleased that she seems to now get where he’s coming from. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?”

“I think,” Emma says slowly, and oh but Josh does not like her tone, not one bit. That’s her logical lawyer tone, the one she uses when she wants to be practical, and have everyone else follow suit. “I think you have to look at it from his point of view, and if you do that, maybe it’s not quite that big a deal after all.”

“Ems, he bought a building,” Josh reminds her, trying and failing to stay calm. “He bought an entire building, is having it fixed up to be this big fancy thing, and then he’s going to keep it running with money out of his own pocket. How is that not a huge deal from anyone’s point of view?”

She sighs. “Josh, I’ve done more snooping into his family than I ever have any other celebrity before. His family is worth hundreds of millions of dollars. The project you’re describing? Sure, it sounds huge to us, but to him it’s a drop in the bucket.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” she adds quickly. “It’s a very nice drop in the bucket, one I’m sure he chose deliberately to make you happy, but it might not be much more than that. Has he said anything to make it seem like he’s got feelings for you?”

“No,” Josh says sadly. He thinks over his and Ale’s last conversation, and his stomach tightens. “In fact, he said he was doing this to thank me for not screwing him over where the whole marriage thing is concerned.”

“There you go then,” Emma says softly, and to her credit, she has the decency to look sad for him. “I’m telling you this as your friend, but please don’t go thinking this might turn into something it’s not. You’re only going to hurt yourself if you do.”

“You’re right,” Josh says, and he knows she is. He just wishes he didn’t think it was already too late. The only bright side, if any, is that his and Ale’s timeline is almost up, so he won’t have to keep faking it for very much longer.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Maria learns about the community centre, Maria is less than enthused about the community centre, and things take a turn for the worst.


	7. Chapter 7

It turns out that Josh was right, and Maria really does not like what Ale’s doing with the community centre. He’s there when Ale breaks the news, the three of them eating lunch in the condo, and he doesn’t miss the way the queen’s entire expression congeals.

“You what.” She says flatly, setting her utensils down with a soft clink that somehow still manages to echo throughout the room like a gunshot. Josh finds himself wondering if he should duck. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that, Alejandro.”

For his part, Ale doesn’t appear nearly as concerned as Josh feels. In fact, he doesn’t even bother to stop eating, choosing instead to take another bite out of the sandwich on his plate and shrug at his mother while he chews. “It’s not a big deal,” he says after he’s swallowed, “and it’s not like I can’t afford it.”

“I don’t care what you can afford,” Maria replies. Her voice remains cool, contained, but Josh can tell she wants to lash out. Her shoulders are tensing exactly the way they had before she’d slapped him the other day, and he idly wonders if it’s the memory of that incident that’s keeping her restrained now.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” She asks, pointedly not looking at the faint mark that’s all that remains of Josh’s split lip. “How this is going to look to the press?”

“It’s a charitable cause,” Ale replies, and Josh sinks a little lower in his chair when the man rolls his eyes. “You love those, especially,” he adds caustically, “for how they look to the media.”

“Not when they come with this kind of context, I don’t,” his mother shoots back. “Alejandro, that is a building Joshua has emotional ties to. The media isn’t going to understand it’s you expressing thanks to him, it’s going to be seen as a gesture of love.”

Briefly, she gives Josh a dirty look he feels is entirely unwarranted, before turning back to her son. “This is going to make people think you’re getting serious about him, at the exact time when we want to begin hinting at the opposite. The timing couldn’t be worse.”

Ale, much to Josh’s surprise, doesn’t so much as flinch. “I’m sure Goody will be able to find a way to spin it so that doesn’t happen,” he says. “More importantly, I don’t care. We owe him.”

Josh is starting to get a little tired of being talked over like he’s not sitting right here, but he nevertheless keeps his mouth resolutely shut as mother and son stare each other down.

As he watches, Maria visibly gets a grip on her temper. “It’s not that I disagree with you ... in principle,” she says, adopting her most reasonable tone. “We owe Joshua a great deal of thanks, and ordinarily I would be thrilled to see you taking this kind of interest. However, again, context is key.”

Ale shrugs, seemingly oblivious to the way the motion makes his mother tense. “I’ve already made the necessary arrangements. Including getting in touch with the previous manager’s widower. He’s agreed to come on in her former role.”

That startles even Josh. “You what?” He asks because it’s news to him. “I thought he moved away. How’d you even find him, let alone convince him to come in on this?”

Ale smiles at him beatifically. “I have my ways,” he replies. “Actually, finding him was the harder part. Once I did that, he became interested pretty quickly.”

“He remembered you and Red,” he adds. “Maybe that helped.”

Josh swallows around a sudden lump in his throat. “That’s cool,” he says gruffly. “And he’ll be good for the project.”

“I think so,” Ale agrees. “He’s coming to the opening in a couple of weeks, so you’ll see him there. Also,” he says, switching topics abruptly. “Did you by any chance name your dog after him?”

“... yes,” Josh says, because even caught off guard as he is, there’s no way he’s revealing the true origins of Jack’s name while Maria’s still in the room. “That’s exactly what I did.”

Ale smirks at him over the rim of his cup, signalling that he’s easily spotted the lie. Thankfully, his mother remains oblivious as she jabs her fork into the salad bowl with more force than necessary.

“Goodnight will have to speak to this person as soon as possible,” she says after she’s speared a number of vegetables on the fork’s tines. “And that is not up for debate. I need to know exactly what you’ve done, so I can figure out how best to handle it.”

“I’ll pass his contact information along,” Ale replies, sounding smug.

“Feeling proud of yourself, are you?” Josh asks later on when it’s just the two of them. Maria’d whisked herself away as soon as the lunch was done, no doubt to go do damage control. “And don’t even think of lying to me when you answer.”

“Why not?” Ale asks, shooting him one of his more wicked grins. “You absolutely lied to me about your dog’s name just now. Didn’t you?”

Josh sighs. “It’s a playing card reference,” he admits, shrugging ruefully. “The jack of hearts and spades are called One-Eyed Jacks because they aren’t drawn with both. Seeing as I found the brute thanks to a poker game, it seemed to fit.”

“That’s actually not as bad as I expected,” Ale says, and then refuses to explain himself further, no matter how much Josh presses him. “Never mind, it’s not important. On a scale of one to ten, about how much trouble do you think I’m in right now?”

Josh snorts, willing to humour him. “Based on how that conversation went, I’m guessing about eight hundred and seventy two. I warned you she was going to be pissed.”

“She’s always pissed,” Ale says dryly. “I’m coming to accept this.”

“Okay, but I’m talking about the kind of pissed where she takes revenge, or whatever,” Josh informs him. He winces as a sudden thought occurs to him. “You don’t think she’ll shut the project down, do you?” He knows it’s selfish of him, but he can’t help but worry.

“I won’t let that happen.” Ale’s quick to reassure him. “I started putting this in motion months ago. It’s too far along to pull the plug now, and I truly don’t think she’d try. For all our issues, my mother is not the type to take her frustrations out on innocent people.”

“Meaning it’s just you in the line of fire,” Josh surmises. “Great.”

“Oh, be fair, Joshua.” Ale grins the way he does whenever he’s feeling particularly impish. “No doubt you’re in almost as much trouble as I am.”

Josh sighs.

*****

It’s about a week later before Josh hears anything more about the community centre, and it happens in an unexpected way. He’s in the middle of eating supper, alone in his apartment for once, when his phone starts to ring. Answering it without thinking, he doesn’t bother looking at the screen.

“Yeah?” He says around a mouthful of leftover pasta. “What is it?”

A genteel sigh carries over the line. “Is it really too much to ask that you swallow before answering?” Goodnight asks wearily. “I know we’ve successfully kept your number private, but still.”

Josh glances sideways towards the microwave and its built in clock. “It’s 7:47pm on a Tuesday night,” he points out. “If you want my attention this late, you can deal with me chewing in your ear.”

Goodnight makes a noise that might, coming from somebody else, be a snicker. “Fair enough,” he decides. “Especially since I’m calling to ask you for a favour. Or rather, two favours, if you’d be so kind.”

Josh isn’t in a particular giving mood, but nor does he want to cause new problems. Things have been tense for days now, and he doesn’t want more stress in his life. “What is it?”

“Well,” the other man starts nervously. “I recognize this is a little unorthodox, but her majesty would like a word with you. Tonight. And she would appreciate it if you didn’t mention anything to his highness.”

It takes Josh a minute to sort through all the royal titles to suss out what Goodnight is getting at. Then he blinks confusedly like that might somehow make these requests make sense. “What?”

“Please don’t make me repeat myself,” Goodnight grunts. “Will you come or not?”

“Wait, seriously?” It’s dawning on him that he’s not hallucinating, but that’s not really an improvement in the long run. “What the hell does she want with me, and why can’t Ale come too?”

“I usually find it’s best in these situations not to ask too many questions,” Goodnight replies. “Otherwise I tend to get a headache. Regardless, yes or no?”

Since saying no isn’t actually guaranteed to get him anywhere, Josh shrugs, and only belatedly realizes Goodnight can’t see him. “I’ll come,” he decides. “Where am I heading?”

“Just stay where you are. We’ll send someone for you. Probably, uh, not a familiar someone,” Goodnight rushes to add. “I’m under orders to keep this from Alejandro entirely, which also means keeping it from Billy and Sam.”

It hasn’t escaped Josh’s notice over the past several months, that Goodnight is clearly an old friend of Sam’s, to say nothing of his relationship with Billy. That kind of order can’t sit well with him. Still, it’s not Josh’s job to offer him comfort.

“Fine,” he decides. “Fair warning, you’re the ones dragging me out of the house in the middle of the evening, so I’m not dressing up. Her ladyship can take me as she finds me.”

Knowing better than to press, Goodnight doesn’t. “Someone will be by shortly,” he says, not even acknowledging Josh’s statement. “They’ll use the buzzer upon arrival.”

“Whatever,” Josh grunts. Hanging up, he turns back to his supper, but finds it doesn’t taste nearly as good as it had originally. Sighing, he forces the rest of it down anyway, and then goes in search of his coat.

By the time his alarm sounds, he’s taken to pacing nervously throughout the apartment. Jack’s lone eye tracks him as he goes back and forth, and the dog whines when the buzzer rings.

“Not tonight, fella,” Josh says, shushing him quiet, and waving him down when he starts to get up. “You’re staying here,” he adds. “I’ll see you later, so long as Ale’s mama doesn’t have me murdered while no one’s around to watch.”

Jack huffs at this, and lays his head back down on his paws. It’s clear he’s not impressed with Josh’s words, but at least he makes no further move to follow him.

Goodnight was half right about the security type who’s waiting for Josh downstairs. He has no idea what the man’s name is, but dimly recognizes him as one of the two men who’d been waiting in the condo hallway the night he’d learned Maria was in town. Figuring it’s futile to ask any questions, he keeps his mouth shut, and lets the guy lead him to a waiting car.

The drive takes both forever and no time at all. Feeling like his stomach is tying itself in knots, Josh sits quietly in the back seat, wondering over and over whether or not he should give Ale a heads up. He knows he’s been told not to, but Maria wanting to see him alone can’t mean anything good.

Still grappling with the idea, he doesn’t notice right away when the car turns off the street and maneuvers into an underground parking lot. It’s only when the heavy garage door clangs shut behind them, that he looks up and sees that they’re winding their way past rows and rows of parked vehicles.

“We’re here?” He asks tentatively, watching as those cars go by.

The bodyguard doesn’t answer right away, choosing instead to ease their ride in between two identical black SUVs, all of them with tinted windows. Only when the car has eased to a complete stop, does he nod. “We’re here.”

“Awesome,” Josh says, for lack of anything better. He clicks his seatbelt off, and steps out before he can be told otherwise, wanting to claim whatever small independence he can. “Lead the way.”

The guard gives him a stiff nod, but offers up nothing further. He heads for what looks like a security door, moving like he expects Josh to follow, and seeing no reason not to, he does.

Past the security door is an elevator, one that must stop at every floor in the hotel. As Josh watches, the guard pulls a set of keys from the depths of his jacket, inserts one into the top of the direction panel, and turns it so that a button marked “P” lights up.

“P for penthouse?” He guesses, and earns himself his third nod in as many minutes. “Cool,” he says. “Don’t think I’ve ever been in one of those for a hotel before. Is it as fancy as Ale’s condo?”

The guard shoots him a dirty look - possibly because of the familiarity in how he drops Ale’s name, or possibly just because he won’t shut up - and continues to say nothing until the elevator comes to a halt. “It’s this way.”

Josh had half expected the elevator to open inside the suite, but maybe that would’ve been too risky considering who’s staying there. He follows the guard down a short hallway, and waits semi-patiently while another guard - one he’s never seen before at all - slides a keycard into the lock at their approach.

“She knows you’re on your way up,” he says. “I’ll be out here if you need anything.”

Josh scowls, and it’s on the tip of his tongue to make some kind of harsh crack about how he’s not a threat to the queen. He stomps down on the urge quickly, however, not wanting to make himself more of a target.

The first guard leads him into the suite, and Josh tries not to find the clicking of the door closing behind him to be ominous. The odds are in his favour that Maria hasn’t asked him out here to kill him, so it’s not like he has much to worry about in the long run.

She’s waiting for him in an ornately decorated living room, seated primly on the lavish couch like she’s just seeking a little evening companionship instead of god knows what’s really got her back up. She doesn’t stand when he approaches, but does gesture for him to sit.

He doesn’t, too uncomfortable to do anything other than stand there awkwardly. “You wanted to see me?” He tries finally, once the silence has stretched on for too long.

“I did,” she agrees. Then she flicks a finger at the guard who’d followed him inside. “Please wait in the other room. I can always call if I need you.”

The guard gives her a funny look, but nevertheless shifts to do as he’s told. Josh watches his retreating back as he leaves, before turning back to his host. “Well?”

“Well, what?” Maria asks. “I’m sure you know why I had you come.”

“I’m really sure I don’t,” Josh snorts, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his coat so that he can fidget with whatever might be in there. “One minute I was having a late supper, and the next I was here. It’s not exactly how I was planning to spend my evening.”

“I see,” she says. “Then let me get straight to the point. My needs from our last conversation haven’t changed. I want you to help me wrangle Alejandro under control before he does something we can’t cover up.”

Josh feels his eyebrows shoot for his hairline. Part of him realizes he should have expected this, but most of him can’t believe she’s trying it again. “You do remember that our last little chat ended with you smacking me, don’t you?” He asks, and feels a perverse sense of glee when her entire face flushes.

“Yes, I - yes.” Her cheeks as red as Josh has ever seen them, she rises abruptly, and crosses to stand in front of him. “I behaved badly,” she says stiffly, her shoulders tight. “I was agitated and acted out, but that is no excuse. I apologize.”

Josh holds her gaze for a long moment, and then snorts. “Honestly, I don’t really care, so long as Ale doesn’t find out. However, I still don’t see what you expect me to do. He’s not backing down on the centre. I asked.”

He very pointedly doesn’t add that he’d been asking to make sure Ale planned to go ahead with the project. Let Maria think what she wants if it gets her off his back even a little.

In answer, Maria makes an exasperated noise. “Of course he’s not backing down,” she says sharply, shifting agitatedly from foot to foot. “He’s found something he knows I can’t override him on, and he doesn’t care about the repercussions.”

“This is exactly what I was talking about,” she hisses, shaking a finger angrily beneath Josh’s nose. “I knew it was only a matter of time before he did something foolish, and now look at us. We are facing an even bigger mess than before.”

Josh scoffs inelegantly, already tired of this conversation. “Do we have to get into it again over how you talk about him? Because I don’t care how it ended the last time, I will.”

Unexpectedly, Maria sighs and backs up several steps, moving far enough that she can drop down back into her previously vacated spot on the couch. She looks tired, Josh realizes abruptly. Tired and worn down.

“I am just trying to protect my family,” she says after a long pause. “Including Alejandro, whether you realize that or not. If we don’t end it soon, this situation will have the power to ruin us.”

“Please,” Josh doesn’t quite grunt. “I did actually read those briefing packets your people gave me way back when, you know. Your family’s been in charge for hundreds of years. That’s not going to change just because one prince had temporarily poor taste in men.”

Maria grunts, looking annoyed. “You may have read up on us, but you still understand nothing. Image is key, and damaging it weakens our power base considerably.”

“Christ,” Josh mutters, exasperated. “At the risk of getting my fool head bitten off, I can tell where Ale gets his flair for the dramatic from, and it ain’t Luis. What he and I did may ruin both our reputations if it gets out, but the monarchy’s still going to be there when the dust settles.”

“Also, what do you expect me to do about it?” He asks, belatedly remembering that no one’s explained as much to him yet. “Ale does what Ale wants.”

“Except for when he’s doing what you want,” Maria replies, sounding snide. “If you tell him you don’t want the community centre, he’ll back off.”

Josh doesn’t believe that for a moment, and even if he did, it’d be a moot point regardless. “See, that’s a problem. I do want the community centre. And I’m not telling him otherwise.”

He can’t, is the thing, because that would mean lying to Ale, and he doesn’t have that in him. Maybe he could have managed as much back when they’d first met, he’s a good liar, after all, but too much time has passed.

Maria gives him a long look, part frustrated and part (dare he say it?) impressed. He gets the feeling she’s not used to being told no, and possibly his willingness to do so is earning him a grudging kind of respect.

Then all that vanishes, and Maria’s face smooths out into an expression he can’t parse at all. “Fine,” she says coolly, and warning klaxons go off in Josh’s head at her tone. “If you won’t help me, I guess I will have to take matters into my own hands.”

Josh doesn’t dare ask her what that means, but he suspects trying to come up with possible scenarios in his head is going to keep him awake all night long.

*****

Josh spends the next several days waiting for the other shoe to drop. He knows Maria wasn’t joking when she said she’d deal with Ale, yet day after day passes without her making a move. Idly, he wonders if she’s lulling them into a false sense of security.

Then he learns that Maria has left California as abruptly as she’d arrived, and he has no idea what to think.

“Well she could hardly stay here for the remainder of our time together,” Ale says absently when Josh voices his confusion. His words are muffled because he’s chewing absently on a length of red liquorice he’s commandeered from somewhere. “We still have a month and a half left on our timeline - Someone was bound to notice if she disappeared for that long.”

Josh doesn’t need to be reminded of the deadline, thanks very much. He’s been silently counting down the days each morning when he wakes up, and he could do just fine without Ale adding to the refrain.

“But she left without doing anything,” he points out, feeling like Ale isn’t treating the situation with the level of seriousness it deserves. “Why come all the way out here just to glare a lot and then leave? It doesn’t make any sense.”

In lieu of a response, Ale drags another piece of liquorice out of the bag to start nibbling on it, frowning when Jack, who’s parked under the table he’s sitting at, bats at his shin with one paw, whining pathetically.

“No, Jack,” he says sternly. “People candy is bad for dogs, I looked it up.” Glancing back over at Josh, he pouts. “Where did you put his treats this time? I feel bad.”

Josh sighs. Over the past ten months Jack has managed to get Ale thoroughly wrapped around his paws, to the point that he’s had to start hiding the treat boxes for fear the dog’s going to wind up sick on all the biscuits Ale sneaks him. Unfortunately, Josh himself is equally wrapped around Ale’s finger.

“They’re in the back of the cupboard above the fridge,” he grunts. “Don’t give him too many. You’ll spoil his appetite.”

“I would never,” Ale protests, which is a blatant lie if ever Josh has heard one. Then he gets up to retrieve the box, reaching inside to grab two biscuits to give to Jack. “Here, perrito. All yours.”

Always on his best behaviour where Ale is concerned, Jack takes first one, then the other, chomping down happily while Ale scratches the back of his ears. “Good boy,” Ale says approvingly, and Jack thumps the remains of his tail at his words.

Josh feels an irrational stab of jealousy at the thought that his dog gets to have the prince’s hands on him whenever he wants. Reminding himself that that’s a) ridiculous and b) only going to serve as a distraction from their current problem, he struggles to get a grip on his emotions.

“Can we get back to the important thing here?” He asks plaintively. “Don’t you think your mother backed off without much of a fight?”

Ale shrugs. “I admit it’s a little out of character, but like I said, she only had so much time she could spend here before someone started asking the wrong questions. Stop looking a gift horse in the mouth, guerito.”

Josh makes a face at him. “If this comes back to haunt us,” he warns ominously, “I’m going to be very upset.”

“It won’t,” Ale promises. “My mother leaving at this point is only a help. What could possibly go wrong now?”

Josh sighs.

*****

The day of the centre’s re-opening dawns bright and clear, almost as if the weather itself is out to show support for the project. There’s already a decent crowd milling about; consisting of a mix of media, security, the general populace, and even a few local politicians. All in all it’s an impressive turnout.

“I told you it would be,” Ale notes when Josh says as much. Waving at a few onlookers, he wraps a hand around Josh’s wrist to tug him in a different direction. “Come with me, there’s someone who I know wants to see you.”

Seeing no point in fighting him, Josh allows Ale to drag him where he wishes, and he feels an added spring in his step when he realizes where they’re headed. Or rather who they’re headed towards.

Jack Horne is still a veritable giant of a man, neither the years nor the grief have taken that much from him. He stands as upright and sturdy as ever, despite the face that his hair has gone snow white while his face is deeply lined, and his mouth turns up in a smile when he sees them coming.

“Joshua Faraday,” he says, still possessing the same reedy voice Josh remembers from when he was a kid, the one that always sounded so strange coming from a man so large. “Look at you, all grown up.”

“Yessir,” Josh says, finding himself halfway to standing at attention without meaning to. “It’s been a while.”

“That it has,” Horne agrees. “The last time I saw you, you were half as tall with a perpetual case of split knuckles from getting into schoolyard fights. Where’s Red at? I know from the news you two are still as thick as thieves.”

Josh shrugs, feeling unexpectedly awkward at the thought of Horne finding out about his personal life from the tabloids. “Red’s around here somewhere. He said he wouldn’t miss this.”

Red had said a lot of things in fact, many of which boiled down to his needing to be here to keep Josh out of potential trouble. Regardless, he’d likewise agreed to come of his own free will, which had to count for something.

For his part though, Horne doesn’t seem overly keen on being at the forefront of the day’s event. He chats with them for a few minutes, but immediately takes his leave when a number of reporters start to converge on where they’re standing. Honestly, Josh is pretty envious as he watches him scuttle away before resigning himself to the fact that he’s stuck.

As if he can sense where Josh’s thoughts are heading, Ale gives his arm a quick squeeze, but then steps in to deal with all the microphones clambering for their attention. He’s got a planned speech prepared for later, Josh knows, but he seems equally comfortable in giving interviews from the get-go.

Josh isn’t, but he’ll admit to enjoying all the hoopla more than usual as the day progresses. The opening has been turned into an entire event, with guided tours of the building, staff members giving explanations of their respective services, and, most importantly of all, the doors left wide open so kids and their parents can see what’s available.

By the time the afternoon rolls around, the media is clambering for even more shots, so they’ve made their way out to the space that’s due to form a community garden. It takes one, maybe two pointed hints from a woman accompanied by a cameraman before Ale’s parked at one of the plant beds, surrounded by eager children as he talks about what’s going to be grown there.

“He’s very good,” a quiet voice says where Josh has tucked himself off to the side to observe the whole thing, “but the question is if he means it, or if it’s all for show.”

Josh twists his head to the side, not at all surprised to see that Jack has reappeared now that the cameras are entirely focused on Ale and the kids. “From the way I hear it, you’ve been working with him to get this project up and running. What do you think?”

Jack gives him a lopsided smile, and his eyes twinkle as he acknowledges the point with a small nod. “You have me there,” he admits. “Although I was some surprised when he showed up at my door looking to chat. I hadn’t exactly been keeping up with the news at that point. I barely knew who he was, much less what he wanted.”

“Yeah?” Josh asks, surprised in spite of himself. “You’re in the minority there then. Some days it feels like the whole world is all up in our business. Or at least the nosier parts of it are.”

Jack clucks his tongue disapprovingly at this. “People should be more inclined to mind themselves,” he declares. “They’ve no right to that which others want to remain private.”

Figuring he’s speaking from experience, Josh doesn’t push. Maya had been a well enough known community member when she died that her widower was bound to have attracted a fair amount of attention while trying to grieve. Especially since the accident had claimed the lives of their children as well.

“I’m glad you came,” he says instead because that’s both true and probably a safer topic. “I’m glad you like what we’ve done here.”

Jack claps him on the shoulder with a meaty hand, and it feels just as heavy now as it had when he was a kid. “I never wanted to see this spot fall apart,” he declares. “I just wasn’t in the right place to keep it going at the time. I’m glad someone’s finally come along that is.”

At Josh’s hesitant nod, he laughs quietly. “He’s a good man,” he says, jerking his chin towards Ale. “I always like seeing my kids be happy, and you’ve chosen well for yourself.”

“I didn’t so much choose him as stumble over him,” Josh says awkwardly, but Jack just shrugs.

“I met Maya because I backed into her car in the grocery store parking lot. She was furious and nearly brained me with a can of peas. How we meet matters less than how we carry on.”

Josh doesn’t doubt that, but since he and Ale are heading towards an inevitable conclusion, it’s hardly the same thing. Looking back over at where Ale’s letting a girl who can’t be any older than ten show him the seeds she’s picked out, nodding seriously as she explains her choices, he takes a deep breath and sighs.

*****

“You should come home with me tonight.”

Josh’s head twists around so fast he’s pretty sure he gives himself whiplash. “What?” He asks, voice coming out completely strangled.

As if realizing exactly what he’s just said, Ale’s eyes widen, and he raises both arms in a placating gesture. “Not like that,” he half yelps. “Merida, that came out completely wrong. I meant as friends! To celebrate how well today went out from under prying eyes.”

Josh has honestly had a busy enough day at this point that he’s starting to feel overwhelmed. On the other hand, he’s pretty sure he’s constitutionally incapable of saying no when Ale’s giving him the puppy dog eyes, which is likely why he winds up saying yes. It’s only when they’re climbing out of the car in the parking garage that he even stops to think about how this might be a bad idea.

“I don’t think I’m gonna be up for staying late,” he says as they step into the elevator, and when Ale turns to look at him in surprise, he adds, “It’s been a long day. I’m kinda tired.”

Ale’s expression clears into one of understanding, but that doesn’t stop him from reaching over to prod Josh in the shoulder. “You have to have at least one drink with me,” he insists. “To celebrate.”

Josh almost reminds him of what happened the last time they drank together completely unsupervised, but stops himself just in time. “One drink,” he agrees, “but that’s it.”

Ale nods, his face lighting up following his victory, and he spends the short walk from the elevator to the front entrance postulating on which of his available wines will be the best choice. Then he opens the door, and they both freeze when they see they’re not alone.

“Joshua. Your highness.” Goodnight’s tone is wooden, possessing none of its usual highs and lows as he rises up out of the chair he’s been sitting in. “I wasn’t expecting you both, but that’s fine.”

Josh knows right away that something’s wrong, and it only takes one glance at Ale to determine that they’re both on the same page. The prince’s eyes are narrowed, and his mouth has curled down into a worried frown.

“What is it, Goody?” He asks, taking a careful step forward.

Goodnight sighs, but instead of answering verbally, holds out one of his trusted tablets, clearly waiting for one of them to take it.

Josh has no desire to do so, but one of them has to, and Ale seems to have frozen suddenly on the spot. Not wanting to pressure him, Josh stretches out his arm for the screen.

It’s stopped on a news headline. Given their lives over the past year, this is hardly surprising. The gist of the article, on the other hand, is entirely different from what he’s used to.

At first it doesn’t look too bad because it starts out as a piece about the community centre, one that discusses the benefits having it back will have on local youths in particular. Then it takes a sharp left and veers into enemy territory.

“Sources close to Maria II have indicated that, while the Queen supports the project in and of itself, she’s not happy with the ties it’s forging between her family and the nobody mechanic who’s wound up in their midst,” Josh reads hollowly, and next to him Ale flinches. “She’s reportedly stated that she’s no longer willing to indulge her son in the furtherance of the affair, and is demanding his return home.”

“No she hasn’t,” Ale snaps, apparently choosing that of all things to focus on. “I haven’t heard a word from her since she left.”

“And exactly what do you think this is?” Goodnight asks, nodding at the tablet Josh is still holding. “She’s done it in a roundabout way, but her majesty has sent you a message that’s clear as can be. Sent it to everybody, as it happens.”

Ale’s mouth works like he wants to spit, and he turns to Josh as if he’s searching for help. “She never told me to leave,” he says miserably, “and I’d never have let her say something like this about you if I knew she planned to.”

“I know,” Josh says, because he does, and he can’t possibly let Ale think he blames him for this. “It’s not your fault.”

He glances back and forth between Ale and Goody, taking in the shocked misery on the face of the former and the resignation on the latter, and comes to a decision. “To hell with dealing with this tonight. Where’s that wine?”

*****

It’s a PR nightmare. The amount of reporters Josh has to deal with outside his home practically quadruples over night. There are more of them than there ever were before, even back in the very beginning, and every single one is like a shark sensing blood in the water. They want to know how he feels about everything, and they’re not shy about asking.

“She couldn’t have timed it better. In fact, there’s no doubt in my mind that she waited until this exact moment for maximum impact. She gave Alejandro just enough rope to hang himself and then pounced.”

Not really one for metaphors, for once Josh isn’t bothered by Goodnight’s overdramatic way of speaking. Maybe because the situation is such a mess that it deserves this level of drama. “What are you going to do?”

Goodnight snorts. He’s sitting at Josh’s kitchen table, and for possibly the first time ever it’s just the two of them. No Ale, no bodyguards, even Jack has been locked away in the bedroom to give them peace.

“There’s not anything I can do,” he says bleakly. “My job is to protect the family’s reputation from outside threats. I can’t defend what’s essentially one member’s attack on another, especially not when it’s Maria herself I’d be going up against.”

“I knew she was fed up with this situation,” he adds sombrely, “but I never dreamed she’d do something like this. I fully expected her to wait out the year for the divorce. Although, with the way everything’s played out, absolutely nobody is going to care about looking into how you two met now, only how you separated.”

Goodnight had made it very clear from the get go that he’d had no idea what the queen was planning, and Josh is inclined to believe him. Given that the man had seen fit to back Ale when he’d wanted to avoid using Sofia’s birth as a press tool, in his opinion its more likely that Maria hadn’t felt she could trust him not to warn her son about what was coming, and the same again for Sam and Billy who appear to have been equally blindsided.

“You’re going to have to do as she says, aren’t you?” He asks hollowly. Of all the ways he’d pictured losing Ale playing out, not even his most grim scenario had been as harsh as this. “You’ve got to get him away from me as soon as possible.”

“I - yes,” Goodnight admits, and he looks old, like he’s aged decades in the span of a day. “There’s less than a month left on your timeline as it is. If he fights her on this now, he’ll just have to give in a few weeks later, and that’ll only serve to make things worse.”

Josh nods, knowing he’s right. As much as he might wish otherwise, he knows there’s no way Ale’s going to suddenly give up his entire life to stay in California with him. His best case scenario was always going to be a few more weeks spent in the prince’s company, followed by an amicable parting. He’s got no right to try and change that now.

“When do you leave?” He asks quietly.

“Tomorrow,” is the reply, and even though it’s not a surprise, it still hurts like hell. “We can worry about the condo and things later. Right now, we need to get Alejandro out of here. At least back home he can hide away somewhere the press can’t get at him.”

“We won’t be able to do the same for you,” he adds softly. “The message it wouldn’t send if we left someone here to - “

“Don’t - don’t worry about it,” Josh cuts him off with a jerky wave of his hand. As much as he doesn’t want to lose Ale, if he has to, he’d rather severe all ties immediately, and not have painful reminders kicking around. “I’ve got nothing to say to anybody, and they’ll get bored eventually.”

He shrugs, dredging up a grin from somewhere in a faint attempt to look unbothered. “You guys did your part for the last while. I can take it from here.”

“I’m sorry,” Goodnight says now, and for all their animosity towards each other during the past year, Josh doesn’t doubt the sincerity behind his words. “You did us an enormous favour, and you deserved better than this.”

Josh swallows heavily, not sure he can trust his voice, but finally he nods in recognition of the other man’s words. “Thanks,” he says gruffly. “I appreciate it.”

Goodnight gives him a long look, one far to shrewd for Josh’s liking, but he doesn’t press it. Instead, he stands and theatrically brushes dust off his knees. “Like I said, we fly out tomorrow evening. I imagine his highness will be around before then to say his goodbyes in person.”

Then he unexpectedly offers his hand to shake. “So long, Joshua. It’s been an experience to say the least.”

Not knowing what else to do, Josh takes his hand.

*****

Josh doesn’t hear a peep out of Ale for the rest of the evening. Eventually, he gives up and forces himself to crawl into bed where he spends the entire night tossing and turning, while Jack wuffles in irritation somewhere down by his feet. When dawn finally breaks and he still hasn’t slept, he gives it up as a lost cause.

Part of him wants to spend the day wallowing, and the urge to do nothing but lay on the couch and eat junk food in his pajamas is strong. On the other hand, he doesn’t need Ale’s last memory of him to be that of a pathetic slob with a five o’clock shadow and cheeto dust on his knees from where he’s been wiping his fingers on his pants. Given all that, he heads for the shower.

Once he’s washed and dressed, he takes Jack out for a longer morning walk than usual. He’s not going into the garage today, not with everything that’s going on, and stretching his legs seems like a good idea. Then he heads back home to find them both something to eat.

He and Jack each chow down on their respective meals before Josh decides it’s time to migrate into the living room. Not trusting himself to stay away from the news, he leaves his phone on the kitchen counter and puts in a movie to avoid any accidental viewing of commercials.

As if he can sense that something is wrong, Jack wanders into the room not long after, and scrambles up onto the couch next to Josh. He rests his head on Josh’s thigh, huffing forlornly when there’s no move to pat him.

“Sorry, fella,” Josh says, bringing a hand up to correct this error. “It’s just been a shitty couple of days, you know? I’d be reaching for some booze if I wasn’t a hundred percent sure I needed to be sober whenever Ale shows up.”

Jack’s ears perk at the mention of Ale’s name, but he makes no move to tear himself away from Josh’s side. Instead, he stays exactly where he is, and after a little while his snores start echoing throughout the room.

“Jerk,” Josh mutters, amused in spite of himself. “Here I am stressing myself into an ulcer, and all you wanted was a pillow.”

Understandably, Jack doesn’t reply, so Josh leans back to focus on his movie.

He winds up zoning out instead, and after the first film finishes, he switches to another one. By the time there’s a quiet knock on his door, he thinks he’s on movie number four, but he’ll be damned if he can say what he’s actually watched.

Steeling himself for what’s to come, he hits the pause button on the remote, takes a deep breath, and then forces himself to get up off the couch. The walk to the door feels like one of the longest he’s ever taken, so much so that he wonders if the apartment’s gotten bigger without his noticing.

“Hi,” Ale says when he opens the door, followed by, “Can I come in?” After Josh continues to stand there like an idiot.

“Wha - oh. Of course.” Shaking himself out of his stupor, Josh steps back to give Ale room to come inside. “Sorry.”

Ale waves away the apology like it’s nothing, and Josh takes a second to look him over. He looks exhausted; dark circles under his eyes suggesting that he’d had as poor a sleep as Josh’s own. More than that, though, he looks defeated, his shoulders slumped in a way Josh has never seen before.

That thought is enough to push some of Josh’s own anguish back. Not all of it, of course, but enough to let him focus on something other than himself for at least a few minutes. Gingerly, he reaches out to place a hand on Ale’s shoulder. “That bad, huh?”

Ale shoots him a bleak look, but surprises him by covering Josh’s hand with one of his own, twining their fingers together in a tight grip. “Worse,” he says roughly. “I actually think it’s worse.”

“I have to go home,” he adds, as if there were any chance neither of them realized as much. “The way she’s played this - it’s an ultimatum, querido. If I don’t leave, everyone loses.”

“I know,” Josh tells him, hoping like hell he doesn’t sound as bitter as he feels. He can’t ask Ale to choose between him and everything he’s ever known. Not even he is that selfish. “Goody said you’re leaving today.”

Ale nods. “Right now, actually. The car downstairs will go straight to the airport after this, and we’ll fly out as soon as everyone is onboard.”

“Better than having to wait for hours in those shitty lounge chairs,” Josh points out, pleased when this earns him a weak grin.

“I suppose so,” Ale replies. Then his expression sobers once again. “You know, I thought we’d be able to keep in touch when everything was said and done, stay friends. Now though,” he shakes his head sadly. “Any hint at communication between us and it’s going to be the scandal of the century.”

Josh very resolutely doesn’t tell him how he’d never survive that anyway. Trying to just be friends after everything that’s happened - he’s pretty sure it’d kill him. “It’s okay,” he says instead. “I get it.”

“Maybe,” Ale says, which doesn’t make any sense. “You should know I’m going to miss you, though, and that I’m grateful for everything you’ve done.”

Josh huffs softly. “I’ve got eyes, don’t I? And I’m going to miss you too. Regardless of how it ended, from start to finish, this has been a hell of a ride. Any trips I take to Vegas from here on out are gonna be downright boring.”

Ale does laugh at that, albeit faintly. “You mean you’re not planning to wind up married to another perfect stranger? And here I thought maybe this was the beginning of a trend.”

“Nah,” Josh replies. “After a while it’d get boring. The ceremony, the license, the rings. Who needs to keep collecting that stuff?”

He still has the rings, he thinks absently, that absurd realization choosing now of all times to rear its ugly head. He’d found them stashed in his suitcase after returning home from Vegas, and in a fit of paranoia had hidden them in the back of his top dresser drawer. Out of nowhere, he wonders if he should tell Ale this.

Then he looks at the man, really looks at him, and decides that’s absolutely the last thing he should do.

“You’re gonna be okay, right?” He asks seriously. “If I’m out of the way, will she get off your back?”

Ale shrugs in a manner that isn’t very convincing. “She will leave me alone about this, probably because she’ll never want to discuss it again, but something new will crop up. It always does where I’m concerned.”

If Josh were a better man, he’d tell him the truth; that he was never a burden or an inconvenience or whatever else he might be thinking. The problem with saying so, however, is that once he starts, he doubts he’ll be able to stop, and hot on those words’ heels will be all the confessions he can’t possibly set free. As such, he keeps his mouth shut.

He waits for Ale to speak again, stomping down on everything he wants to say while the other man wrinkles his brow in thought. It’s almost as if Ale’s having some great debate with himself, although god only knows what about.

Finally, Ale sighs. “I should go,” he says softly. “The others are waiting for me.”

Josh nods, his throat tight. “Yeah,” he rasps, his voice sounding off even to his own ears. “Yeah, of course. C’mere then.”

It’s a bad idea, he knows that when he does it, but he also knows he can’t stop himself. Shifting, he folds Ale into a hug, holding him in his arms one last time. “Take care of yourself, you hear me?” He murmurs. “I’m not gonna be around to watch out for you anymore.”

Ale laughs weakly, but his own hold is just as tight as Josh’s, if not more so. “I will,” he promises, his voice muffled due to the way he’s got his face pressed into Josh’s shoulder, “but you have to agree to do the same.”

“Deal,” Josh agrees. Then he gives Ale a light smack on the back, and pulls away. “Go on, your majesty. Get out of here before you miss your plane.”

“It can’t leave without me,” Ale retorts, but at the same time he jerks his jacket back into place with a nod. Leaning down, he ruffles the fur on Jack’s neck from where he’s been avidly watching their conversation, smiling when the dog wags his tail.

“Adiós, perro,” he says, smacking a kiss onto the top of Jack’s head. “Keep an eye on Joshua for me, okay?” He asks, and then he straightens to go without another word.

Looking startled, Jack starts to whine as the door closes behind him, and Josh can’t help but know exactly how the big dog feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more to go after this! :OOO


	8. Chapter 8

  
  
He gets drunk with Red and Emma.   
  
To be fair, it’s not his idea. They show up one night after he’s spent a solid week wallowing at home, and tell him in no uncertain terms that they’re going out and he’s coming with them. Pretending they’re not there has no effect, especially since Red has a key.   
  
He thinks it’s a terrible idea - just because Ale’s out of his life doesn’t mean the media is, so they’re bound to be followed - but neither Red nor Emma is willing to take no for an answer.   
  
“You’re coming,” says Red.   
  
“You need to stop acting like such a sad sack,” adds Emma. She eyes him critically for a moment, before pointing an imperious finger towards the bedroom door. “Go get changed. We want you looking good for the cameras.”   
  
“How is me drowning my sorrows in public going to look anything other than pathetic?” He asks. It’s to no avail. When he doesn’t move fast enough, she starts physically shoving him where she wants him.   
  
Finally he concedes, and several hours later he finds himself seated at the front of a bar with Red and Emma planted on either side of him. He’s not sure what number drink he’s on at this point, but it’s high enough that he’s definitely feeling it.   
  
“I miss Ale,” he tells the polished countertop, and it’s pure luck that the bartender is far enough away to be out of earshot. The tabloids would have a field day with an admission like that.   
  
Red says nothing, but Emma nods solemnly. “We know,” she says. “It’s why we brought you out here. You need to admit what’s going on before you can start to get over him.”   
  
“Don’t treat me like one of your clients, Ems,” he snaps. He’s heard enough stories from her to know the role of divorce lawyer also goes hand in hand with that of pseudo counsellor. “I’ll leave if you do.”   
  
“I’m not,” she’s quick to reassure him. She even goes so far as to pat him on the arm. “I’m treating you like my friend. One that I’m worried about.”   
  
“Oh,” Josh says, mollified in spite of himself. “I guess that’s alright then.”   
  
“Good.” She pats him again. “Now, you can have another beer, but if you start crying you’re getting cut off.”   
  
Emma has to turn in before the rest of them, so in the end the task of getting Josh home and pouring him into bed falls to Red, who’s surprisingly gracious about it. Not once does he threaten to leave him to pass out and drown in a puddle of his own vomit.   
  
“I want Ale back,” Josh says as he flops down in the middle of his bed. Part of him thinks the blankets somehow smell like the other man, never mind the fact that he’d never set foot in this room. “Why’d he have to go?”   
  
There’s a sigh from somewhere up above him. “I’ve got about a dozen answers to that question, and you won’t like any of them,” Red says. “Now hold still so I can get your boots off.”   
  
For once Josh does as he’s told, and doesn’t move while Red yanks first one and then the other of his boots off. After that he sighs and squirms around until he can worm his way beneath the covers. Nothing feels right, the whole world seeming like it’s miserably off-kilter, and he closes his eyes to try and tune it all out.    
  
It doesn’t work, he can still feel Red hovering over him nearby, and against his better judgement, he cracks one eye back open. “You we’re trying to warn me, weren’t you? That night in the bar, when Ale flew back in from visiting Sofia. You knew this was going to happen.”   
  
“We’ve been friends for twenty years, Josh,” Red replies, which in this case probably translates as ‘I know what you look like when you’re falling in love’. Either that or ‘I know what you look like when you’re doing something incredibly stupid’. “It comes with the territory.”   
  
Josh nods, the words somehow making sense despite the large quantity of alcohol he’s ingested tonight. “Thanks,” he says gruffly, albeit without specifying for what. “I owe you.”   
  
“You don’t,” Red says, and either his voice is getting fainter or Josh is falling asleep. “Not for this one.”   
  
*****   
  
It gets better after that. Well, sort of. Josh knows Ale isn’t coming back, has known from the beginning that he was always doomed to lose him, but it doesn’t hurt quite so much.   
  
He goes out with his friends, he plays with his dog, he works in his garage - he does all the things he’d done before Ale had come into his life, and somehow the world keeps moving. By the time a further three weeks have passed, he’s almost starting to feel routine again.   
  
“That’s normal after a loss,” Jack says. It’s a quiet evening, one where Josh has popped into the centre for a visit, only to be immediately conscripted into helping clean up the massive kitchen after a wave of kids have passed through for supper, and of course the old man turns out to still be fully capable of making him talk about his problems.    
  
“I know it sounds hard to believe now,” he continues on, oblivious to where Josh’s thoughts have headed, “but eventually you start remembering that there are things in this world to make you happy.”   
  
Josh bites back a rude comment as he keeps stacking newly dried plates one on top of the other. “Ale’s just gone home, Jack. He’s not ... you know.” Suddenly tongue tied at the thought of talking about Ale as if he were dead in front of Jack of all people, he stutters to a halt.   
  
For his part, Jack merely smiles serenely. “And thank heaven for that,” he acknowledges. “He seems to have gone into hiding though. I’ve checked the news a handful of times, and I haven’t seen him.”   
  
“Then you’re not looking hard enough,” Josh grumbles. He’s personally made absolutely no attempts to cyberstalk Ale, but the same cannot be said for everyone in his life. Emma’s been keeping him updated on what tidbits she can find, and while there aren’t a lot, there are enough that each one feels like being sucker punched when she brings it to him.   
  
“Have you asked her to stop?” Jack asks, and the answering silence is telling. “Ah. So you do want to know what he’s up to.”   
  
He smiles again when Josh sighs. “Pathetic, isn’t it?”   
  
“No,” the old man replies quietly. “Sad, certainly, but only in the way heartbreak always is.”   
  
“I’m not ...” Josh starts to say, but it’s too big a lie for even him to get out. “Fuck, I am. I keep trying not to be, but it’s not working.”   
  
“It’s been barely a month,” Jack points out. “You’re going to have to give it more time.”   
  
“Ugh,” Josh says succinctly.   
  
Chuckling, Jack finishes wiping down the industrial sink, then gestures for Josh to follow him. “Come on. I’ve got a bottle of whiskey locked away in my office, and I’m willing to help you drown your sorrows.”   
  
Jack’s idea of drowning his sorrows turns out to be vastly different than that of Emma and Red’s, as evidenced by the fact that Josh is barely even buzzed when he arrives home later that evening. Still, he thinks as he lets himself into his apartment, it’s nice to know people are looking out for him. If anything’s going to get him through this, that’s it.   
  
*****   
  
“This came for you today.”   
  
Glancing up from his desk where he’s trying to make sense of some accounting reports, Josh is surprised to find Red standing over him, holding a large manilla envelope. He groans. “Please tell me that’s not more invoices.”   
  
Red shakes his head quietly, and it’s then that Josh notices his somber expression. His friend has always been a fairly taciturn guy, but Josh knows him well enough to tell the difference between his resting face and when he’s being the bearer of bad news. His own stomach clenching, he lays down the pencil he’s been doing calculations with. “What is it?”   
  
“I don’t know,” Red says almost kindly, like he thinks Josh needs him to be gentle, “but it didn’t come by mail. A very official looking courier dropped it off, one who made me show him ID before he handed it over. There’s no return address.”   
  
“Oh,” Josh says, his mouth suddenly going dry. He’s not someone who gets a lot of personal mail that isn’t bills, and a courier implies the sender was looking for a sense of added security lest whatever’s inside get lost. Part of him hopes it’s something paparazzi based, but most of him knows better. They’re largely leaving him alone at this point, fed up with the way he refuses to talk to them. “I guess you’d better give it here.”   
  
Red hesitates for a second, but eventually hands the package over with a sigh. He doesn’t leave, however, instead he closes Josh’s office door, and then drops into his single empty chair, watching him expectantly.   
  
“You ain’t gotta stay,” Josh says roughly.   
  
“I know,” Red replies, and in that moment Josh loves him as much, if not more than, he’s ever loved any other person, his current feelings be damned. “I’m going to anyway.”   
  
“Thanks,” Josh says, surprising himself when he manages to speak without sounding like a total wreck. Shakily, he slits the envelope open with a thumbnail, and then pulls out the multiple pieces of paper inside.   
  
There’s no letter or note attached, but then there doesn’t have to be. There is, he sees an address typed into one of the forms for delivery of the pages, but other than that it’s the most clinical set of documents he thinks he’s ever laid eyes on.   
  
He stares down at the very first page, the one titled ‘Petition for Divorce’, and tries very hard not to flinch as he sees first his own and then Ale’s name under the headings for petitioner and respondent.    
  
“Well,” he says after he’s let way too much time pass. “I guess that’s that then. Should’ve known better than to think they’d forget about this little detail.” Never mind the fact that he himself almost had, what with how caught up in just missing Ale he’s been.   
  
Across from him, Red snorts, and then reaches a hand very, very slowly over Josh’s desk until he can curl it over his wrist. “Just give the word,” he says seriously, “and they will never find his body.”   
  
In a move that he will deny until his dying day, Josh twists his arm around to grip Red’s hand tightly. He only holds on for a few seconds, the ones he needs to get himself under control, but while he does, he clings like it’s a lifeline.   
  
Then he lets go, pulling back with a weak laugh. “It’s okay,” he promises, and Red is kind enough not to call him on the lie. “Don’t start murdering people on my account. Especially not royal ones.”   
  
“I don’t care who he is,” Red starts, but Josh cuts him off with a hurriedly waved hand.   
  
“Please don’t,” he says softly. “I - it’s gonna be fine, man. I’m gonna be fine. I just need to read through all this shit, sign it, and get it back to him. Then this’ll all be over.”   
  
Red eyes him for a long moment, and Josh can see the exact spot where he decides not to push. “You should have Emma look at them before you sign,” he says reasonably. “That way you’ll know you’re not getting screwed over.”   
  
“Ale wouldn’t do that,” Josh blurts, wincing when Red makes a face. “I mean - yeah, sure. I’ll give her a call.”   
  
“Good,” Red replies. “You should also call it a day. I can close down the shop for you, but you’re done. Go on upstairs, and do whatever you need to to help yourself feel better. I’d offer to come with, but we both know that’s not what you want.”   
  
“Fuck no,” Josh says fervently, once again relieved to have a friend who knows him so well. “Thanks,” he adds then. It feels like it’s not enough, but at the same time he’s pretty sure Red gets what he’s trying to say.   
  
“Anytime,” Red vows, effectively proving Josh’s point. “Not get out of here. Go get drunk, wrestle with Jack, whatever makes you feel better, and call if you need anything.”   
  
_ Call if you need me _ , he means. Josh is pretty sure he hasn’t cried outside of a broken bone since his Ma died, but things are definitely getting a little misty here. Refusing to let that continue, he nods and pushes away from his desk.   
  
Stopping briefly, he clasps a hand over Red’s shoulder as a further expression of gratitude. Then he tucks the papers under his arm, and does as he’s told.   
  
Jack looks up as he comes inside, snuffling quizzically at Josh calling it a day so early. He watches, eerily silent, as Josh slowly crosses to the kitchen table and sinks down in the nearest chair. Then he gets to his feet, and pads over to nose at his knee.   
  
“‘M okay, fella,” Josh assures, patting the top of the dog’s head when he presses more insistently. “Honest, I am.”   
  
He drops the packet of papers on the table top, not really caring if they get knocked out of order, and stares blankly at the first few pages. It looks like the whole packet has been tabbed wherever he needs to sign. Idly, he wonders if that was meant to be helpful.   
  
“Fuck,” he says aloud. Then he does the only thing he can think of and goes to grab a beer.   
  
Once he’s successfully obtained alcohol, he sits back down at the table and tentatively picks up the first set of documents. It looks like he’s been sent no less than four copies of each of the same thing, and for the life of him he doesn’t understand why.   
  
“So ... I guess I just sign where I’m supposed to?” He asks empty air. When no answers appears to be forthcoming, he does reaches for a pen to do exactly that.   
  
He does mean to at least read over everything, but he gets halfway through the first package, sees the part that cites “irreconcilable differences” as the reason for the breakdown of the marriage, and damn near puts his fist through the wall. Deciding it’s not worth the stress, he just signs blindly from thereon out.   
  
Suddenly feeling like there are eyes upon him, he glances down to find Jack staring up at him reproachfully. “I’ll let Emma read them before I send ‘em back, okay?” He tries. “Don’t you be looking at me like that, you have no idea what’s going on here.”   
  
Jack has the audacity to whine at him, and bats at his knee with a heavy paw. Groaning, Josh thumps the now signed papers back on the table, and moves to stand.   
  
It’s somehow turned dark while he was sitting here, which makes him wonder exactly how many times he’d wound up staring into space while trying to get through everything. Deciding it’s best not to ask, he stands and grabs for Jack’s leash instead.   
  
“C’mon, fella,” he says, clipping it to the dog’s collar after a couple of unsuccessful tries. “You need a walk, and I need a change in scenery. Let’s go.”   
  
Jack surprises him by not pulling and trotting along at his side, completely docile. Frankly suspicious of this unusual behaviour, Josh eyes him warily as they meander down the street.   
  
“Do you know something I don’t?” He asks, honestly concerned.   
  
Jack doesn’t really answer, choosing instead to wag what little tail he has a couple of times, before wandering further up the street.    
  
It’s too early to go to bed when they get home, so Josh spends a few hours sprawled out on his couch, alternating between watching tv and fucking around on his phone. When it finally is late enough to turn in, he heads straight for his room, bypassing the kitchen entirely for his own emotional well-being.   
  
He takes longer than he’d like to fall asleep, and his last thoughts are will with ‘could have beens’ and ‘might have beens’ because he really is just that pathetic.   
  
*****   
  
All things considered, once he actually goes down for the count, Josh sleeps reasonably well. He wakes at least feeling human, if not functioning at one hundred percent, and figures that’s got to count for something.   
  
It’s the middle of the week, which means he technically should be heading down to the garage. On the other hand, he’s a soon to be divorcée, so who’s going to get on his back over slacking off for a day.   
  
He shoots Red a text saying not to expect him in at least until tomorrow, and receives a response telling him to call if he needs a ride to the hospital to get his stomach pumped. Since that’s essentially a declaration of love from Red, Josh chooses to accept it in the spirit it was intended.   
  
Lounging around in bed for an extra hour is nice, but eventually he gets hungry enough to venture out. He makes a quick stop in the bathroom to deal with a more pressing call, then heads for the coffee maker.   
  
He gets sidetracked before reaching it by an irate Jack. Huffing in annoyance, the big dog pointedly knocks over his empty food bowl, making it rattle on the floor with a resounding clang. Then he stands there glaring.   
  
“Dude,” Josh says, more amused than anything. “Your breakfast is maybe a whole hour late. It’s not like it’s been days since I fed you.”   
  
Jack however continues to eyeball him, so Josh shrugs and detours to the cupboard that houses his food bag. Pulling free the cup inside, he measures out the correct amount, dumping it into Jack’s bowl once it’s been righted.   
  
“Happy now?” He asks, but Jack is too busy going to town on his meal to respond.   
  
“Jerk,” Josh mutters.    
  
He stands to turn back to his intended quest of making coffee happen, only to freeze a second time when his gaze lands on the kitchen table and the papers resting atop it.   
  
“Oh,” he says, voice brittle as the memories of yesterday come rushing back. “Right.”   
  
Suddenly finding himself unable to move, Josh stands where he is until the sound of someone knocking on his front door jerks him out of his reverie. “The fuck?”   
  
It can’t be Red, not when he’s already acknowledged that Josh isn’t coming in to work today, and nobody else with access to the stairs would think to find him here at this time of day. Confused, he heads towards the knocking that has yet to peter off, wondering if maybe he’s been ratted out to Emma and she’s come to give him legal advice whether he wants it or not.   
  
Biting back a sigh, Josh tugs at the door handle, already coming up with an excuse for why he doesn’t need to deal with this now. Then he freezes.   
  
It’s not Emma.   
  
“Joshua,” Ale says brightly, like he’s just wandered over for a planned visit, as opposed to travelled across continents without warning anyone. “Hi.”   
  
Josh stares at him. He looks fantastic, of course, if a little rumpled, like maybe he’d slept in his clothes and then come right here. On the other hand, Josh is currently wearing no shirt and his rattiest sweatpants, so it’s not like he has room to complain.    
  
“What the hell are you doing here?” He finally demands. It’s far too early in the morning for him to process whatever weirdness is going on with Ale now. Bad enough he’d already come face to face with the signed divorce papers staring at him accusingly. He can’t handle this on top of everything else. “Aren’t you supposed to be - wherever it is that isn’t my front door?”   
  
“No,” Ale says. “Or at least, I don’t think so. Can I come in? Is that alright?”   
  
“I mean - yeah, sure.” Josh tells him since what else is he going to say? ‘No, you can’t come in because having you around is too painful now that everything is ruined’? Yeah, that’s bound to go over real well.   
  
Stepping back to give Ale room to slip by him, he gestures the other man into his home. “Come on in.”   
  
“Gracias,” Ale replies, and then he takes Josh up on the offer, stepping past him awkwardly in such a way that they don’t touch. “I’m sorry to just barge in like this. I know you probably weren’t expecting me.”   
  
“S’cool,” Josh says, aiming for nonchalant, but pretty sure he misses by a mile. “I, uh, was about to make coffee You want some? Or maybe something else? I got waffles around here somewhere.”   
  
“Coffee would be great,” Ale says, though Josh can’t help but notice that he already looks jittery as hell, like he’s not sure if his presence is welcome or not. “But please don’t trouble yourself on my account.”   
  
Josh gives him a brittle smile at this. “Always with the manners,” he jokes for lack of anything better to say. “I’m making coffee one way or the other, so you might as well have some if you want it.”   
  
“Okay,” Ale agrees. “Then I’ll have coffee.”   
  
“Okay,” Josh echoes. Not knowing what else to do, he heads for the kitchen, figuring Ale can either follow him, and they’ll talk there, or he can wait out front until he’s ready.   
  
Judging by the soft footfalls from behind him, Josh is going to assume Ale’s gone with option A. Not trusting himself to comment on that, however, he simply continues on his path until he clears the threshold of the kitchen doorway.   
  
Jack’s still in there, chowing down on the remains of his breakfast. He looks up as Josh approaches, and wags what little tail he has in recognition. Then he spots Ale, and promptly goes fucking ballistic with excitement.   
  
Darting away from his bowl despite the fact that there’s food still in it (something Josh has not once ever seen him do) he skids across the kitchen floor, barking hysterically, and jumping to get Ale’s attention.    
  
Where most people would understandably panic at the sight of a 90lb, heavily scarred slab of muscle bounding towards them, Ale merely drops to one knee with a laugh, and accepts Jack’s enthusiastic greeting like it’s all he wants in the world.   
  
“Hola, perrito,” he says, scratching vigorously behind Jack’s ears while the crazy dog slobbers happily all over his face. “How are you? Did you miss me? Good boy, Jack. Good boy!”   
  
“You shouldn’t let him do that,” Josh says from where he’s messing with the coffee maker. “His manners are bad enough, and he’s drooling all over you. One sec, and I’ll get him down.”   
  
“It’s fine,” Ale says quickly. He shifts one of his hands to scratch at Jack’s belly, and the damned mutt practically keels over in glee, rolling onto his back with all four paws kicking in the air to give him better access.   
  
“Jack, this is just embarrassing,” Josh groans. He can’t believe his dog is as much of a shameless pushover for Ale as he himself is. “Have some damn dignity, man.”   
  
“Oh, leave him be,” Ale says, still rubbing Jack’s wriggling form. “It’s nice to know I’ve been missed by someone.”   
  
If only he knew. Half afraid that thought might show on his face, Josh turns back to the coffee maker, so Ale doesn’t see. He stares at the pot like that might somehow make it brew faster, and tries to figure out what the other man is doing here.   
  
Eventually the coffee maker clicks to show that it’s ready, so Josh grabs two mugs out of the cupboard. Setting them down on the counter, he pours an equal amount of the beverage into them before steeling himself to turn around.   
  
“You still drinking yours black?” He asks, amazing himself with how put together he sounds. He doesn’t do much as stutter.   
  
“Sí,” Ale replies. Making a show of dusting off his knees, he stands, ignoring Jack’s disgruntled whine, and accepts the proffered mug. “Thank you.”   
  
Josh watches him sip cautiously at the brew, smacking his lips together with every sign of enjoyment. He can’t, however, bring himself to touch his own cup, so it remains where it is.   
  
“Ale, why are you here?” He asks. One of them has to man up to break the silence, and he guesses it’s going to have to be him. “I thought you were supposed to be at some country retreat or some shit right now?”   
  
That earns him a raised eyebrow as Ale looks at him over the rim of his mug. “How did you know that? I don’t remember mentioning it before I left.”   
  
“You didn’t,” Josh snorts. “Emma’s basically stalking you online, and I can’t get her to stop giving me updates. She told me.”   
  
“I see.” Ale takes another long drink, one that Josh can’t be sure, but he thinks might be him stalling for time. “Did she, uh, did she tell you anything about what happened while it was going on?”   
  
Josh can’t help but laugh. “Ale, it’s like eight o’clock in the morning. Her updates aren’t that often, I promise. Why? Everything okay?”   
  
Ale makes a face Josh can’t parse. “There was - my mother invited McCann and his boss to the estate without telling me. I imagine she didn’t mean anything by it,” he adds when Josh can’t stop himself from scowling at the mention of McCann, “but there was a particular evening that did not go well.”   
  
“Okay,” Josh says slowly. “Are you alright?”   
  
“What - oh, yes. I’m fine.” Glancing away from where Josh is watching him, Ale lets his gaze roam around the room, finally alighting on the kitchen table, which he then leans up against. “I just - I just.”   
  
“You just?” Josh asks when he doesn’t finish the sentence. “Ale? You just what?”   
  
“Hmm? Oh,” tearing himself away from whatever’s so interesting on the table, Ale rubs a hand roughly over his face. “Mierda,” he hisses, his expression shifting to something Josh really doesn’t like.   
  
“This was a mistake,” he says. Pushing away from the table abruptly, he sets the half empty mug down behind him, and scrubs his hands through his hair. “I should never have come here. Fuck!”   
  
“Hey, wait.” Straightening up as well, Josh stamps down on the urge to physically reach out and stop him. “Ale, what the hell’s gotten into you? Why’d you come here?”   
  
“What does it matter?” Ale says, unhelpfully answering a question with a question. He blows a harsh breath out through his nose, and then moves towards the doorway. “Clearly, we’re not on the same page.”   
  
“I should probably apologize,” he says, continuing on nonsensically. “You are - mierda, you are in for a whole bunch of media trouble that will be entirely my fault.”   
  
“I didn’t mean to do it,” he says then, carrying right over Josh’s attempts to get a word in edgewise. “It just slipped out, I swear. One minute I was fending off McCann and his far too intrusive hands, and the next I was - ugh. I’m sorry.”   
  
“Sorry for what?” Josh demands, and then his brain catches up with the rest of what Ale’s just said. “And what the fuck did McCann do? So help me god, I’ll fuckin’ end him if you like.”   
  
Ale waves a hand dismissively. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’m pretty sure me punching him in front of god, my family, and the household staff was enough for even him to get a hint that I’m not interested. I doubt he’ll be back.”   
  
“You punched out McCann?” Josh asks, honestly impressed. “Is that why you were asking me about the tabloids earlier? Because, honestly, I wouldn’t mind seeing the asshole get his due.”   
  
“The punching isn’t the problem,” Ale informs him. “What I said after is the problem. Or, really, what I said after where all kinds of witnesses could hear.”   
  
Josh is frankly still stuck on the whole taking out McCann bit, but there’s a tiny voice in the back of his head telling him there are more important things for him to be paying attention to. Through sheer force of will, he tries to get himself back on task. “What’d you say?”   
  
“Something that is only going to cause trouble,” Ale says grimly. “It slipped out before I could stop it, I swear. Then I thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, maybe I’d get lucky and we’d be on the same page, and at least face the fallout together. Apparently, I was wrong.”   
  
Now he sounds sad, legitimately sad. Josh hates it, but he also doesn’t understand it because Ale still hasn’t given him the full details. Trying hard not to sound frustrated, Josh draws himself up to his full height, and pins Ale with a look. “You need to tell me what you’re talking about. Now, please.”   
  
Maybe it’s the please that finally gets through to him, Josh doesn’t know. Whatever the case, Ale gives him a tired look, and sighs. “McCann was ... being McCann. He was making comments about getting doing this, that, and the other thing now that you were out of the way, talking like I’m some kind of prize instead of a person. He even alluded to marriage! Eventually it got to be too much to handle.”   
  
“So you punched him,” Josh says, feeling like the bastard had probably deserved it.   
  
“Yes,” Ale agrees, “but not before I said ... what I said.”   
  
“Which was?” Josh asks, making a little get on with it gesture to try and encourage him.    
  
Ale groans miserably. “That I was already married, and wanted to stay that way.”   
  
_ Wait, what? _ _   
_   
“Wait, what?” Josh asks, figuring there’s nothing better for him to say. “No, you don’t.”   
  
“Do too,” Ale spits mulishly, resorting to one of his favourite forms of childish comebacks. “I think I know what’s going on inside my own head, Joshua.”   
  
“Then why are you trying to leave?” Josh asks plaintively, and from somewhere behind him Jack whines like he’s echoing the sentiment. “I didn’t tell you to go.”   
  
“You don’t have to,” Ale says sadly. He points towards the table he’d been previously leaning against. “Those already did.”   
  
Josh follows his finger, and sucks in a heavy breath when he spots the divorce papers resting right where he’d left them last night; with his signature staring accusingly up at him. “That wasn’t my idea,” he protests. “You’re the one who sent ‘em.”   
  
“I did not!” Ale snaps, sounding a mixture of surprised and offended. “I’ve been stalling this whole thing for ages now!”   
  
That draws Josh up short. “You have?” He asks, voice faint. “Why?”   
  
“Because I don’t want to be divorced, obviously!” Ale hunches his shoulders, looking suddenly furtive. “I suppose I should apologize for that as well,” he mumbles while Josh gapes at him.   
  
“But I don’t want to be divorced either,” Josh says. He’s trying hard not to let the traitorous feeling of hope bloom in his chest, only Ale’s making it really hard. “I want us to stay married.”   
  
Ale makes a disbelieving sound. “Then why do you have those?” He demands, once again pointing at the papers. “And why did you sign them?”   
  
“I thought you wanted me to!” Josh insists. “I didn’t get them made up. They came in the mail the other day, so I figured they must’ve come from you, and that was your way of telling me to take a hike.”   
  
“I was trying to do right by you, and make it easy,” he adds quietly. “I didn’t want to stress you out by causing a fuss.”   
  
“Well, you are not succeeding.” The corners of Ale’s mouth twitch, like he wants to laugh, except then he sobers. “I didn’t send you those papers,” he says firmly, “but I can probably figure out who did.”   
  
“Yeah.” Josh exhales slowly. He can think of one person who very much wants him out of the picture, not to mention someone who knows Ale well enough to manipulate him into thinking it’s the only option by having Josh sign first. “I meant it when I told you I don’t think your mother likes me.”   
  
“I believe you,” Ale says now. He squares his shoulders like he’s already preparing for the inevitable fight. “How unfortunate for her that she’s going to have to get over herself.”   
  
It takes Josh a moment to clue into what that means, but when he does he finds himself unable to keep from smiling stupidly. “Is that so?”   
  
“Yes.” Ale says firmly. “It is. So long as you’ll have me, of course.”   
  
Josh makes a brief show of thinking it over, before grabbing Ale by the front of his jacket, and reeling him in. “I suppose I could be convinced,” he says, promptly swallowing down whatever reply Ale tries to make.   
  
It’s the first real kiss they’ve shared since the night they met, and Josh honestly can’t remember any of those very well. This one, however, oh this one he’s going to remember. He’s going to remember the way Ale tastes when he licks into his mouth, and the accompanying sound that goes along with it. He’s going to remember the feel of warm flesh beneath his fingertips as his hands land on Ale’s waist and slip unerringly under his shirt. He’s going to remember the way Ale’s arms come up to wrap around his neck, pulling him in so he can’t get away.   
  
He’s going to remember all of it, and goddamnit is he ever going to go in for thousands of repeat performances.   
  
“I love you,” he says when they finally break apart. He rests his forehead against Ale’s, taking a moment to just breathe. “I love you so fucking much. I’ll do whatever it takes if it means I can keep you.”   
  
“You already have me,” Ale says, sounding more ragged than Josh has ever heard him. He nuzzles at the side of Josh’s face, like he needs all the contact he can get. “You don’t have to do anything to have that.”   
  
“No, Ale, I mean it,” Josh insists, needing him to understand. “I’ll go where you need me to, I’ll say what you need me to, whatever. I don’t care. I’ll move, I’ll give up the shop, I’ll -“ He’s forced to shut up when Ale places a finger over his lips, and he doesn’t miss the look he gets.   
  
“You will do nothing of the sort,” Ale says firmly. “I’m not going to make you leave everything you love behind just to be with me. I’m not the heir, Joshua. I’m not even the spare, as you like to put it, and I’m much more flexible in what I can and can’t do than most people realize.”   
  
“What, you mean, like, stay here?” Josh asks incredulously. He can’t possibly be about to get both Ale and his current life. There’s just no way.   
  
“Well, probably not here, precisely,” Ale says, and that makes way more sense. There’s got to be some kind of catch. “I’m sure the guard will insist on a more secure building - the condo, maybe - and they’ll become a heavier presence for you than they were before. We’ll also no doubt have to travel more than you’re used to, be present for specific functions, that sort of thing. I promise, though, I’ll make it as small an intrusion as possible.”   
  
“Ale, I don’t care,” Josh says, even though he knows they’ll have to actually sit down later and discuss exactly how this is going to work. For now, that can wait until later. “Do whatever you have to, just don’t fuckin’ divorce me.”   
  
“Pretty sure it’s you who’s on the verge of divorcing me, guerito,” Ale points out. “You’re the one with the signed papers, after all.”   
  
“Oh for hell’s sake.” Refusing to take that lying down, Josh let’s Ale go, steps around where Jack’s now flopped in the middle of the floor, and grabs the papers. “I already told you why I signed ‘em, but if it means that much to you, then here.”   
  
Shuffling the documents into a single pile, Josh grips the whole thing in both hands, and calmly tears the pages in half, starting at the top and going right through to the bottom. “There,” he says, dropping the now useless forms down on the table yet again. “Happy now?”   
  
“Yes, very,” Ale replies, and the smile on his face is doing terrible things to Josh’s insides, making them all warm and melting. As is the way he holds up his hands to reach out. “Come here, querido. We have a lot of lost time to make up for.”   
  
“And for the record,” he says, as Josh does as requested, and slides back into his embrace. “I love you too.”   
  
*****   
  
_ Epilogue _   
  
“So, you two are finally going to leave the house, are you? Amazing.”   
  
Josh looks up from where he’s been fussing with the cuffs of his sleeves, trying to get them to hang right, and he’s surprised to see Red lurking in the bathroom doorway. “How did you get in here?” He asks. “I’m pretty sure this is a security breach. Sam, are you letting invaders inside now?”   
  
The only answer is a resounding snicker from Red. “Sam’s downstairs,” he explains. “I was told I don’t constitute a potential threat, so I can do what I want.”   
  
Josh scoffs at this. “He only said that because he wasn’t there the time you put me in a headlock and dangled me over a railing for not sharing my doritos.”   
  
“You had it coming,” Red says simply. “Now, answer my question. Are you and your better half actually going to brave the outside world tonight? Or are you still hiding from the media?”   
  
“Hey now, we haven’t  _ just _ been hiding,” Josh says with a wink, laughing at Red’s resulting horrified expression. “Come on, you’ve seen Ale. How could I resist at this point? He’s a walking wet dream, and he’s all mine.”   
  
“God, please stop,” Red says, his voice pained. “I want to know absolutely nothing about your recent sexcapades.”   
  
“That’s too bad,” Josh muses thoughtfully. “Because they’re way more fun when I’m sober enough to remember them.”   
  
Red makes a very deliberate gagging noise before backing out of the room. “You’re the worst,” he complains. “I can’t believe you’ve managed to become even more annoying now that you’ve got your man back.”   
  
“Who is being annoying?” Having noticed them emerging from the bathroom, Ale looks up from where he’s absorbed in a very serious game of tug of war with Jack. “Come on, who?”   
  
“No one,” Josh replies, “and pay attention to what you’re doing. He’ll drag you right off that couch if you’re not careful.”   
  
Ale makes a scoffing sound, but nevertheless returns his focus to Jack and the dog toy they’re fighting over. For his part, Josh turns back to Red.   
  
“Why are you here?” He asks. “I know you and I didn’t have plans tonight.”   
  
Red shrugs. “We didn’t, you’re right. I thought I’d pop in and see if you guys wanted company other than each other for a change, but Sam told me you already had other ideas when I was on my way up.”   
  
“Sam’s right. We do,” Josh informs him. “Very important plans that you’re getting in the way of.”   
  
“I see,” Red says dryly. “And what would those be?”   
  
Apparently having given up on his game with Jack, Ale stands and crosses the living room to reach them. “I,” he says with relish, “am taking my husband on our first date.”   
  
Josh snorts in amusement. “Back it up a bit there, your majesty. We agreed we’re taking each other.”   
  
“Semantics,” Ale replies. “The important part is the first date aspect.”   
  
“Oh gag me,” Red says as they smile at each other stupidly. “You two are ridiculous,” he adds in exasperation. “You’ve already gone on hundreds of dates together.”   
  
Ale clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Mandated dates,” he says. “Scheduled dates. Dates arranged to do the most help with the public. No, this is just for us.”   
  
“What he said,” Josh agrees. “We’re not even taking Billy and Sam.”   
  
“No wonder Sam looked so put out when I bumped into him,” Red says. “What if you get kidnapped for ransom or something?”   
  
“Then we will be rescued by the royal guard and made to listen to a significant number of ‘I told you so’s.” Ale says blithely. “We’ll survive.”   
  
“Right then,” Red holds his hands up in an obvious bid for surrender, and starts backing away. “I know better than to get in the middle of this. Have a good time, but please call somebody else if you need to be saved from the paparazzi.”   
  
“Deal,” Josh replies, but he’s talking to thin air already. “Some friend he is,” he sniffs, then he spreads his arms for inspection. “Anyway, how do I look?”   
  
“Delicious,” Ale informs him, which isn’t going to help them leave the house at all.   
  
“I meant, do I look presentable?” Josh clarifies. “Which you knew.”   
  
“I did,” Ale agrees, “and you do. Does that mean we can go now?”   
  
“Yeah, sure,” Josh decides. “We can do that.”   
  
Ale gives him a pleased smile, before looping his arm through Josh’s, despite the fact that they haven’t left the house yet. The silver band on his ring finger - the original from their night in Vegas in direct defiance of his initial protests - gleams as the light hits it just right, and Josh feels his own stupid smile grow without permission.    
  
“Hey,” he says, leaning in to steal a kiss when Ale turns to face him. “Thanks for marrying me, and for staying that way.”   
  
Ale’s smile grows. “Anytime, querido. Anytime.”   
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we have reached the end, folks! Hope everyone enjoyed, and a special shout out to northisnotup for coming up with the epilogue idea, not to mention letting me scream at her for days about this story :D


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